The Arxs School
by PhantomHill
Summary: The phantom died in 1902 with Christine crying for him. Yet in the year 2013, 111 years after his death, he is back. But this Erik can't remember anything about who he was before then. All he knows are three names, Javert, Daae, and Raoul de -. And, to top it off, somehow he was accepted to teach at a boarding school in America. Most of the characters are my own. Some are POTO.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own POTO or any of its characters. These chapters will probably be re-edited a couple of times. Also, any comments, critiques, or tips would be greatly appreciated.  
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Paris, 1902

She was holding my hand, my cold, bony hand, as I lay dying upon the bed. The candles surrounding us were flickering, casting shadows upon her down-turned face. Her blue eyes, normally so full of joy and youth, were filled with water and pain. Her tears were leaving shiny streaks. I sighed and closed my eyes. Though she was talking, her lips to me were merely moving. How had I, of all despicable and loathsome creatures, been graced with her presence? I could feel the darkness continue to come over me. How soft and gentle it was, like an embrace from an angel. I opened my eyes for the last time.

"Christine..." I felt myself begin. Keeping my eyes open took too much effort. They closed on their own accord. Oh, my angel calls. Keep calling angel, I am coming. Such a soft sweet voice... how I love my angel Christine... My dear, dear angel...

* * *

"Erik? Erik!? Erik! Wake up! Please! Don't leave me!" I watched as the girl threw her arms around Erik curiously. He would have loved this. Would have loved... this. Even I sighed for him. Not that he had been a good man, on the contrary, he had been quite horrible, but he had a reason. An excuse. He could have been worse. Sometimes I had even found him to be in possession of a morbid sense of humor, though I had never seen him smile. Christine's sobs stopped my thoughts. It's a shame that she chose to be with Raoul. Certainly, it made sense for her life, but she could have saved him, made him the happiest man alive for the few days he had remaining after the Don Juan episode. I looked at the girl. She was crying hard enough that, had I not known who she was crying for, she could have been crying for her own child. I shook my head. She needed to get back to her life and out of this dank dungeon.

I rested my hand lightly upon her shoulder. "Christine, we need to go. You must get back to your vicomte."

"But... but... Erik..."

"Is dead now Christine. Look at me, my girl." She turned her head towards me, but her wet eyes did not seem to focus. "He is gone. And you made him the happiest he had ever been when he died. But that was his life. This is yours. Say goodbye to him."

She threw herself back onto his body, as though she could squeeze life back into his corpse. I barely made out the words she said before she kissed him on his cheek and turned to me slowly.

"Come, my girl. I must get you to Madame Giry before Raoul throws a fit at her. Come now. Leave him in peace." Reluctantly, she took my hand and we began walking away from what had once been Erik. Even I would miss the man I had been the conscious for. But never would I miss him enough to cry for him.

* * *

The Christine that entered that dungeon of his and the Christine that came out to me were two separate people entirely. My love that entered was strong. She had held her head high, even though she was fighting back tears for that freak who apparently had died. The Christine that returned to me seemed... broken. Her sobs could be heard everywhere, and it seemed that her tears were creating a river of pain where she walked. She was leaning heavily on Antoinette Giry and another man I was not familiar with. But he didn't matter. Only my poor little angel. My love.

"Christine! My dear!" I ran towards her. Perhaps not the most vicomt-y thing I was capable of, but the thing that was most necessary. I wrapped my arms around her small body and buried my face into her soft, curly brown hair. She was so beautiful, in so many ways. How she could cry for that monster was beyond me. He nearly killed me and essentially tortured her! Yet here we were. My dearest crying her eyes out for a monstrosity that should have never been born, and that I, personally, despised and detested. I lifted her light weight into my arms and carried her to my carriage, where I settled her neatly inside.

"Monsieur de Chagny," The unfamiliar man was speaking to me. Weird. "Mademoiselle Daae will recover. She seems to be taking Erik's death hard. But she will recover. I guarantee you that." Erik? That was the freaks name? He had a name? "In the mean time, I recommend that you see to her every need personally. You must be a good man for her, Raoul. A very good man indeed." Did this foreign man think that I was incapable of taking care of my saddest, dearest angel? How rude!

"I assure you, monsieur, that I will do everything in my power to help her. I also assure you that I do not need you assistance. Good-day, monsieur." I stepped into my carriage and closed the door, but not before saying good-bye to Antoinette. Perhaps I was a little harsh on the fellow (who looked vaguely Persian), but he did insult me. It's not like I need advice on how to take care of women anyway. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

De Chagny blood-line from 1864-2013 (Comte Philippe de Changy to Melissa Isse-Moncharmin de Changy)

Philippe de Chagny~ Born 1864. Died 1913  
S Adeline Tremont~ Born 1870. Died 1915  
Raoul de Chagny~ Born 1873. Died 1935  
S Christine Daae~ Born 1874. Died 1918  
Christopher de Chagny~ Born 1902. Died 1976  
S Victoria Clarisse~ Born 1906. Died 1976  
Christian de Chagny~ Born 1930. Died 1939  
Maria de Chagny~ Born 1934. Died 2012  
S1 Mark White~ Born 1930. Died 1962  
S2 Patrick Quillis~ Born 1932. Died  
Philippe (Quillis) de Chagny~ Born 1964. Died 2008  
S May-Anne Husk~ Born 1964. Died  
Christine (Quillis) de Chagny~ Born 1967. Died 2006  
S Paul Isse~ Born 1967. Died  
Christian (Isse) de Chagny~ Born 1970. Died  
S Katherine Meyer~ Born 1974. Died  
Adeline de Chagny~ Born 1999. Died  
Victoria (Isse) de Chagny~ Born 1976. Died  
S Nico d'Ange~ Born 1975. Died  
Richard (d'Ange) de Chagny~ Born 2001  
Maria (Isse) de Chagny~ Born 1982. Died  
Raoul (Isse) de Chagny~ Born 1980. Died 2013  
S Elizabeth Moncharmin~ Born 1979. Died  
Melissa de Chagny~Born 2013. Died

Maria flipped through the pages of the old book with respect. Only Comte Philippe knew how old exactly this book was. After all, as her great-great-great-great-great-great-uncle (or something like that) he knew everything there was to know at the time. Or was that Christopher? She rolled her eyes. For her family, she was always getting who did what and who changed the world when mixed up a lot. She could never seem to quite remember anything correctly. Except for her lessons as a little girl growing up in France. Those she could remember, down to the last sharp scolding of Great-great (and so-forth) grandfather Philippe Quillis.

'No, no, no! Vicomte Raoul married Christine Daae, the famous soprano diva of the Opera Populair! Raoul did not marry Adeline! His brother, Comte Philippe married her while running the family businesses. Both were patrons of Madame Daae's opera house! Get this right Maria Isse, or no cake for you!'

She smiled at the memory, which also reminded her to pull the cake that she was baking from the oven. If there was one thing she could get straight about her family, it was Great-great (and a lot more greats) aunt Victoria's chocolate cake. Or was Victoria Clarisse her grandmother? Maria Isse groaned aloud. It would do her no good to get her mind muddled like this before meeting her new housemate for the first time ever.

She set the cake down on the counter to let it cool and turned off the oven. Trying as hard as she could to ignore the tempting smell, she went into the living and plopped onto the couch. The chocolate aroma was still drifting towards her, and she forced herself to walk the other way when she stood, though she originally had the intent of following the smell back into the kitchen. After walking to the far end of the house and down two flights of stairs, she gave up and forced herself to think of anything except for the cake. Naturally, her mind drifted towards her unknown housemate.

As a teacher at the prestigious Arxs school in Pennsylvania, she was required to live on campus. She just so happened to have been assigned to this dorm, Ferenbach, her first year. And, being reluctant to change houses for the next year, in Ferenbach she remained. Her previous housemate had gotten married last year, and she moved into his house at the end of that year, leaving Maria alone. Well, alone until the faculty housing management person realized that she had to find a place to put a new teacher on campus. The de Chagny had offered the spare room in Ferenbach immediately when she heard about the new guy, not even caring about what was known about him. Very simply, Isse did not like living alone during the summer. She found it uninteresting, un-educational, and even scary at times. Not that she would have been alone during the school year anyway. After all, Ferenbach was a dorm house, and there would be at least twelve teenage girls running around with her acting like mom.

Her thoughts snapped to the thin file she had been given about her new housemate. His name was Erik Destler, and he was from Paris, France, though it said that he was not born there. It actually didn't mention where he was born. Anyway, he was born a year after her, so 1983. She had smiled when she read that. Something about rooming with a guy younger than her had amused her, though for the life of her she couldn't recall what. The file continued on to mention basic facts about him, such as hair color (black), height (6'6), and first language (French, obviously). Oddly, the file didn't mention such things as where he went to school for both high school and college, or how he found Arxs. It also neglected to mention his eye-color, which she found a bit strange. She imagined blue. A really pretty blue. As blue as her great-whatever-grandfather Raoul's were said to be. The blue that runs in her family. But that would be crazy, meeting someone with the same eye color as you. Not to mention very unlikely.

She began pacing back and forth across the basement of her house. There was her version of him, based off of the file's facts and her imagination, and then there were the rumors. If she thought that teachers didn't gossip like the teenagers they taught before coming here, then she was certainly shocked. Arxs school teachers nearly gossip more than their students. Of course, most of what they gossip about tends to be true. In fact, she had never been able to prove one teacher gossip wrong yet. Which is why she had suddenly become apprehensive.

According to the others, Erik was incredibly smart, which she though was not surprising given that they must teach really, really smart kids. But they took it a step further, saying he had a perfect memory, and could figure any problem out. Any. They also said that he was an inventor and some musical genius on top of it. The next one that came to her mind was about his languages. The modern language department head had mentioned something to the English department head about how he was apparently fluent in over twelve languages. Fifteen the English department said to the Math department. Eighteen the math department had said to the classics department, who had said twenty to her. Finally, there was something going around about a mask. Rumor has it that he wears a mask to cover half of his face for some reason. Maria wasn't sure where this rumor started though. After all, some departments, such as the Science department, was more reliable than other departments, take the Music department, for example.

Maria stopped pacing and looked at the clock hanging on the wall. Noon exactly. He would be here soon. Anytime, in fact. His file had said anywhere from noon to one. She would have to trust those papers for the time being. And even more so, she would need to be ready to accept living with him, no matter if he was a genius or wore a mask on half his face. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind living with her. After all, she had just made a cake for him.

Speaking of... Maria hiked back up the two flights of stairs to where she had put the cake to cool. Putting her hand over it, she bobbed her head in satisfaction. It was finally cool enough to put Grandfather or so Whites frosting on it. About time too!


	3. Chapter 3

He had no idea of where he was or how he got there. In fact, he hardly knew who he was. He knew that he should remember something, something really important about his life leading up to this point, but there was nothing. It was weird, like a blank, empty space in his memory. Which was also weird, for he knew that he had a fine memory. Or, at least, it should have been fine. The man frowned. The only things that he was able to recall were basic, irrelevant things, such as eye color, his mask, hair color, and where he was from. For the life of him, he could not remember where he was born though. Some small town in Northern France, but what town exactly? He simply did not know. The memories where not there. And this annoyed him to no end.

Yet he was smart enough to know that thinking about this too hard would give him a headache worse than what he had right then, so instead he thought of what he did know. He knew his name (Erik), he knew where he was (Some school in some place called Pennsylvania, which he thought was also in some place called America, which would not make any sense because he thought that he had last been in Paris), he knew that somehow he had enrolled to teach Italian, though he did not know who signed him up. He knew that he had been accepted to teach that language, and he knew that he loved music and was not a people person. Though why did he not love people? This one he could at least guess at. Obviously it had something to do with his past, and probably with his face. But there was a name that kept popping up, one of three that he was able to remember. Javert. No last name. He had something to do with him when he was young. Maybe a relative? But that didn't seem right. Erik couldn't place his finger on it. He knew that he knew him, and he knew that he did not like him at all, in fact he hated him, but he did not know why.

He shook his head. Thinking about this Javert character would not get him any closer to remembering. It would just get him more confused. Which is why he also refused to think about the other two names he could remember. A Daae, though he wasn't sure whether that was the first name or the last name, and one Raoul de something-or-another. Neither of these names held any meaning to him incomplete. Instead, he tried to focus on the now. He was about to see the inside of where he was going to be living for the next year. He would also be meeting his housemate for the first time ever, which racked his nerves. He decided that he had definitely not been a people person, if merely thinking about someone made him nervous. On the up side, he did know her name. Maria Isse, born somewhere in France, moved to America to go to high school, and stayed in this country for college, and, as far as he could tell, a job. Still, that did not calm him overly much.

He frowned again. For him to not like the species as much as he seemingly did, they must have done something really bad to him. All-well. Whats not remembered is not remembered. Surely it will all come in time. Eventually. He forced his lips to twitch back up into a neutral expression before knocking on the door he had been standing in front of. He was not sure why, but that seemed like the right thing to do, to knock, that is.

Erik did not have to wait long before the door was opened. In fact, if he were to guess, he would have said that she had been standing three meters away from it or so, judging by the speed at which she got there. Either that, or she ran, which would not have made sense unless she was a very quiet runner, for he did know that he had exceptional hearing.

She seemed to be taking him in when she had opened the door. Possibly that was because of his height, and possibly that was because of his pale complexion and mask. He could not tell. She did seem to get over her surprise quickly, if she had any, for she stuck out her hand at him.

"Hi. I'm Maria Isse. You must be Erik Destler, right?" Erik noted that she had a very nice voice, even though she spoke English. He took her hand and shook it, and she openly stared at how long his fingers where.

"Yes, I am Erik. Nice to meet you." Somehow he knew that that was what was considered polite. Though he did not quite understand how he spoke English as well. Certainly, he had learned it at one point, but that would have been long in his past, which he still could not remember. He stopped his past thinking, and was curious to note that she seemed surprised by his voice, as if she had been expecting something different. Was his accent really that bad?

She seemed to be mentally shaking her head while scolding herself. "Cool. So... welcome to Ferenbach dorm. Your home for the next year."


	4. Chapter 4

I don't own anything in POTO, but most of these characters are mine.  
Any feedback, comments, suggestions, or criticism would be gladly accepted and greatly appreciated.

* * *

Maria had barely finished plating her cake when she heard the knock of a few very short raps on her door. As she had walked to the door, she re-thought of all the rumors that had been flying around about him. Not that any of them mattered, especially now that she was able to meet him, though she did have to wonder which of them would be true. Secretly, she hoped that the mask rumor wasn't true. It would be rather weird living with someone who hides his face from you day and night, yet she supposed that if it was true she would learn how to live with it. She also hoped that he would like her and wouldn't ignore her like her old housemate. Sarah and she had never seen eye-to-eye for some reason. Maria was still puzzling over that.

She only became aware of the fact that she had opened the door when light hit her eyes. The change from the dark interior to the outside illuminance was rather shocking, so she was relieved when a dark shadow moved in front of the sun. She blinked a little bit, clearing the stars from her eyes, and looked up to observe her new housemate. Inwardly, she sighed when she saw that the mask rumor was true. On the bright side, the entire rumor was true, so it only covered half his face. The half that she could see was quite handsome in a contrasty sort of way, with his hair being black, genuine black, and his skin nearly being as pale as his mask. He had a very strong jaw-line, and what she could tell was a very nice nose. She couldn't tell what color his eyes were, though she could sense them on her.

"Hi. I'm Maria Isse. You must be Erik Destler, right?" She put her hand out for a polite shake. Dutifully, he took it, and she couldn't help but feel how long his fingers were as they wrapped around her hand. Maria was unable to resist looking at what her skin was telling her. His fingers were long. Very, very long, but elegant. In the back of her head, she noted that they would be great for playing a piano or an organ, and in the back of her head, she noted that she was staring.

His voice snapped her out of her observation. She didn't catch the words, but the timbre of that voice! It was beautiful! Clear and pure and... her mind conjured up a storm of adjectives to describe it. Not anything like any other voice she had heard before. She bet that even her great (and a lot of greats) grandmother Daae's voice wasn't even that stunning. He had the voice of an angel. She practically blushed when she realized that she was thinking solely of his voice. Thoroughly embarrassed, she made herself look at his face, only to find curiosity and (possibly) bemusement in his eyes. She still couldn't tell the color.

"Cool. So... Welcome to Ferenbach dorm. Your home for the next year." She mentally face palmed. Of course he knew that he was at Ferenbach! Of course he knew that this was going to be his home for a while! Gah! If he was the genius her co-workers said he was, then he probably knew all about her too!

"Are you all right mademoiselle?" His voice rang out again, cutting through her mentally scolding thoughts. She refocused her eyes onto him and smiled. He looked genuinely curious, with his head cocked to the side and everything, and in this moment she wondered how his mask was staying on his face.

"Erm, yeah. I'm fine. Really though, you don't need to call me mademoiselle. Maria works just fine, and it's a lot faster to say." She moved out of the doorway. "Come on. You probably should know how to get around this place." He stepped inside lightly, needing to duck slightly to avoid hitting his head on the door frame. Turns out that the file was wrong in his height; he was at least a solid inch taller than what it said, maybe more.

The door opened into the living room, and from their position, they could see into the kitchen, where Maria's cake was proudly on display. She looked up at him. He was looking around at their surroundings intently, and to Maria it seemed as though he was noticing everything from the book on the couch to the fact that a picture of her and her family in France was not quite hanging at a ninety degree angle. She cleared her throat to get his attention.

"This is the living room obviously, and over there," she pointed a finger towards her cake, "is the kitchen. Through this door here is the dining room, and that door leads to a bathroom. If we go down these stairs one floor," she led him downwards, "you will find the bedrooms. Mine is the second door, yours the first." He seemed like he was curious to see where he would be sleeping, but he hesitated too long for her to wait. "Down these stairs is the basement, so lots of storage room. Offices and the washer and dryer are down here too. Students that need extra help will normally show up in this little reception area if you leave that door open. Your teaching Italian, correct?" He nodded his head.

"You'll probably be getting a lot of visitors here then. Languages tend to be popular extra help matters, right up there with math."

"And what are you teaching?" A very honest inquiry. Either he really didn't know, or he was playing nice with her.

"Algebra 1." She allowed herself to smile a little bit. "Combined, we should have quite a few people down here." Her smile turned into a smirk as she remembered how crazy it had been last year. Sarah hadn't gotten many visitors here because she was an english teacher who practically lived in the writing center, so every person that had showed up had just been for her, even if they hadn't been in her class. Maria imagined that former craziness and doubled it.  
He coughed politely, and Isse was snapped back into the present.

"There is a piano here." He nodded his head towards the instrument. "Can you play?"

"No. The only reason it is here is because my former housemate, Sarah, left it behind. She got a new one when she moved." Sarah hadn't been great at it either, now that she thought about it. It had been more of a pastime when she had the time, which was frequent enough to be annoying, but not often enough to get better.

"Shame. It is a decent instrument." He stared at the instrument like he wanted to play. In fact, Maria could see his hands twitching.

"If you want to play it, go for it. I think it's still in tune." When was the last time it had been tuned? A month ago? Recently enough, she knew that.

"I am not sure that I remember how." He looked so sad, like he was trying to recall something, but he simply couldn't. Rumor number one point two then had been proven false. No perfect memory for this guy.

"Doesn't matter. So long as you can play it better than Sarah did, we're set. And believe me, that is not hard to do." Maria frowned. "Seriously though. You're twitching. Just sit down and play a few notes. You don't need to remember anything to do that."

He might have smiled when she said that, but she wasn't sure. Either way, he sat down at the old little piano and played a simple chord. It seemed as though he was waiting for something to do anything more, and he hesitated for a couple of seconds before playing scales. Maria couldn't help but stare as his fingers moved up and down the piano. Her eyes blurred, and she was stuck watching the keys. She was disappointed when he stopped, as the lack of movement had knocked her out of the trance quite suddenly.

"Why were you worrying about not remembering? Your fingers clearly know the movements, even I can see that. Besides, you seemed to enjoy doing that."  
He didn't answer her question. Instead, his fingers began flying over the keyboard, pressing notes at such speed it seemed impossible. Rumor one point four confirmed. Musical genius? Definitely.


	5. Chapter 5

He wanted to play that piano. He wanted to play it desperately. And he did not know why. Something about it's shape, or maybe the instrument itself. Maybe it was the prospect of music. He smiled inwardly as he found another thing he could remember. He remembered that music had been in his life. A central part of it, too. He simply could not remember why.

"If you want to play it, go for it. I think it's still in tune." He most certainly wanted to play that piano! He just was not sure how, though he knew that he should. He could feel his shoulders slump.

"I am not sure that I remember how." His eyes turned down towards the floor. He wanted to remember the music. He really did. He wanted to know how he got here, and who he was before this. He wanted his music back, yet he was not sure what that meant.

"Doesn't matter. So long as you can play it better than Sarah did, we're set. And believe me, that is not hard to do. Seriously though, you're twitching. Just sit down and play a few notes. You don't need to remember anything to do that."

He moved his eyes to focus upon the piano once again. She was right. To play a note or two, you did not need to remember anything. You did not even need to know where the keys were. He could feel his lips pull up into a small smile as he sat down at the bench. His fingers formed a very simple chord as he pressed down on the keys. The music! His small smile turned into a full out grin, and his hands began moving up and down the instrument. He paused, something coming back to him from his past. A song of some form. It brought with it memories of an organ. He smiled even harder as he began to play the piece. Maria must have thought him mad!

He looked over his shoulder to where she was standing, and nearly laughed at her expression. Her chin was practically at the floor, and she was staring wide-eyed at him. His hands finished the piece while he was still looking at her. It seemed as though she had not even noticed that the music had stopped. Erik turned his body towards her. He was slightly puzzled as to why she had not moved from her slack jawed expression, and his head tilted on its own accord. Finally, she began to stutter something.

"T-th-tht-th..." Erik wondered if she remembered that English was not his first language, for he was unable to come up with a meaning for what she was saying. His puzzled expression deepened. "That." She finally managed to say. "Was. Amazing! Where did you learn to play like that? What song was that? Were you seriously worried that you wouldn't remember how to play? With a talent like that? Why are you only teaching Italian here? You should be teaching the orchestra, or playing in the chapel!" She stopped, like she was waiting for him to say something. "Well? Are you just going to sit there with your head tilted to the side, or are you going to answer a few of my questions?"

He snapped his head back upright. He honestly had not noticed that it had been tilted.  
"I do not have answers to your questions. Any of them." He sighed. It was true. He did not know how or where he learned to play like that, nor did he know what song it was, nor did he know why he was even teaching here.

"Hey. Erik." He looked back up at her, and her eyes caught his. "You don't need to answer those if you don't want to. Cheer up." She began to smile a bit. "Besides, I have cake upstairs. You do like cake, right?" Again, another question he could nott answer. But Maria took his silence as a yes. "Good! Come on! I made it just today from an old family recipe." She grabbed his hand and hauled him to his feet. "I even frosted it!"

As she was dragging him up the flights up stairs, he could not help but let his curiosity get the best of him, as he could not recall hearing the English words of 'cake' and 'frosted'.

"Apologies for asking, but what are those two words you just said?"

"Two words I just said?" She looked at him strangely.

"I believe you said 'cake'" he sounded out the word curiously, "and 'frosted.'" She gave him the oddest look before smiling, and even laughing. Erik mimicked her strange look. He did nnot know what was so funny.

"I forgot that English isn't your first language!" Maria said through giggles. "Cake and frosting. Not ca-ak-ee and whatever the other jumble of syllables you said was. Cake and frosting. And you shall see!" With that, she continued to lead him up the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

Don't own anything from POTO, most of the characters are my own, and please, please review. I am perfectly fine with critiques. Really. Or tips, or ideas, or suggestions. Anything.

* * *

He had just said something. She knew he just said something, except it was completely unintelligible. She had gotten as far as the 'believe you said' before his English became completely messed up. Did he just say 'caakee?' cake? Cake! She smiled as realization hit her. He didn't know what cake and (frosting?) were! Maria chuckled at his attempted pronunciation of frosting, and went to down right laughing when she saw his face change from curiosity to bewilderment.

"I forgot that English isn't your first language!" She managed to stammer out through her chuckles. "Cake and frosting. Not 'ca-ak-ee' and whatever the other jumble of syllables you said was. Cake and frosting. And you shall see!"

Maria tightened her grip on his wrist and continued to lead him up the stairs to the third floor where they had originally entered. She brought him to a table and, in a mockingly forceful voice, told him to stay there.

She wandered back into the kitchen to dig out a pair of forks, plates, and a knife to cut her cake with. Putting the forks and knife on the mismatched plates, she grabbed that stack with one hand, and the cake with the other. Balancing her load precariously, she ambled slowly back out to where she had seated Erik, only to find that he hadn't done as she had ordered. Instead, he was looking out the window onto the track. Maria tsked at him, which made him turn around and face her.

"Well, you're certainly one for following orders, aren't you?" She asked sarcastically. He must have noticed the amused gleam in her eye, for he didn't say anything and instead came back to the table. She sat down, and he mimicked her. "This here cake is from my dear old lots of greats aunt Victorias recipe." Maria stated proudly as she grabbed the knife off of the top plate. "The frosting is my grandfather Whites." She forced the knife into the soft cake. She could practically feel Erik grimace.

"Why not I cut it for you? You seem to be having... difficulties." She looked up from what she was trying to do and handed the knife over to him. She had never been good with cutting stuff, even soft things, like cake. He bent down a bit and began cutting her cake into perfectly even sized slices. She marveled once again at how his mask wasn't falling off before she noticed a very thin black string tucked into his hair connecting to it. Noticing that he was concentrating on his task (perfectionist much), she took a moment to study the rest of his face now that he was inside. His eyes were very deep set into his face, but that didn't take away from the overall handsomeness of the unmasked side of him, in fact, it contributed. The skin that she could see was very pale, like she had noticed earlier, and indeed, he did have a very nice nose and a strong jawline. His cheek-bones were pronounced enough to be interesting, but not so defined as to draw eyes on them alone. His lips were like any normal males lips, soft looking, but not... there was something wrong. She could feel her own lips turning downwards slightly. His upper lip on the right side, about where it became covered by his mask, looked puffy and swollen. Rather painful more than anything. Kind of like he had gotten hit by something really hard.

Maria didn't notice that he had long ago finished cutting the cake until he tapped on the table. She flinched, and inwardly began punishing herself for staring. Eventually, she was able to meet his gaze. He seemed to her to be challenging her to ask about it, though his eyes flashed like he was being threatened. More than anything right then, Maria Isse de Changy felt as though she could melt into her seat and disappear forever from the intensity of that stare. That would be much better than being there right then.

Erik's gaze seemed to soften when he noticed her cringing into her seat, though Maria was to far into her own form of personal embarrassment to notice. He even served her a slice of cake, but she didn't respond. For all the pride of her family history, she had been completely knocked senseless with a single look from a man she barely knew. If grandpa White could see her now. She shuddered inwardly at the thought as she remembered the punishments he would dole out to those that did not please him. She thought of this one time where he had made her stand in a corner for three hours straight because she had not read a chapter in some old musty book. She shuddered again.

"Maria? Maria?" She could hear a voice calling to her. Something was moving in front of her eyes. "Snap out of it. Maria!" She looked up sharply, and for a second she couldn't remember where she was. That is, until she noticed the figure seated across from her. Blinking heavily, she looked at him and blushed. Her mouth was open to speak, but his words came first.

"If you are going to completely panic when I glare at you, you might want to find a way to snap yourself out of it." He looked nearly amused at her expense. She blushed some more.

"The cake looks delicious, by the way." She was relieved at the change of subjects. "Correct me if I am wrong, but this bit here is the cake," he pointed a long finger at the part that was, indeed the cake. "And that creamy stuff on top is the frosting, right?"

Maria nodded her head slowly and passed him a fork while he gave her a plate with meticulously cut cake on it. She watched as he took a very tentative bite and smiled at the look of wonder that befell him. It became clear to her that he had never had cake before. He started digging in with eagerness. It also became clear to her that he had a taste for chocolate. He looked up with sheepishness when he had finished his piece and noticed that she had barely begun hers.

"Like cake?" She asked with an eyebrow cocked at him. He nodded his head. "Well, enjoy." She gestured at the rest of the cake. He gave her a look like he was a little boy at Christmas opening the largest present under the tree and helped himself to another slice. "Just try and save room for dinner tonight." He stopped eating and put his fork down.

"Dinner?"

"Dinner. In the dining-hall, up with the rest of the staff. It's rather crazy, even though the students aren't here yet. I'll introduce you to some people in the modern languages department, and really anyone else we come across whom you should know. After all, you will be living with these people for a year at least." Maria noticed the feeling of concern that flashed from his body. "Though if you would rather meet fewer people, and eat more food, I'd be fine with that too."

"Won't I need to meet these people eventually anyway?" The nervousness that she could have sworn she saw seemed to disappear.

"Yes, you would, but like you said, only eventually." He frowned when she said that, as though he was contemplating which would be worse. He sighed.

"Might as well get it over with as soon as I can." And with that, he finished his cake.


	7. Chapter 7

Going with the usual pre-story spiel, I don't own POTO. Any reviews, comments, suggestions, critiques, etc, really are greatly appreciated. Also, I probably will come back at some later time to edit and change chapters to make them better.

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"Though if you would rather meet fewer people, and eat more food, I'd be fine with that too." He hoped that she didn't notice that he would much rather take that option than the meeting everybody at once option. Though that would not help him in the long run, and he knew it. If he was to meet every person he could now, then he simply wouldn't have to go through the annoyance of introducing himself to the co-workers that inquired.

"Will I need to meet these people eventually anyway?" He asked this for the sake of reassurance. Not that he did not already know the answer, which would obviously be a yes.

"Yes," he knew it. "You would, but like you said, only eventually." Only eventually. He had not noticed that he had said that. Not that he could take the eventually option, although he would much prefer it, it would be rather inconvenient. Besides, if he did this now, with her, then she could do all the talking. He sighed, having resigned himself to his fate. He really did not like people. Or perhaps it was the group setting, for Maria alone seemed to be fine. He had to admit that he was still nervous around her, after all, they had met only an hour ago.

"Might as well get it over with as soon as I can." He continued eating his cake, and did not stop until the slice was completely finished. He would much rather focus on the sweet baked thing than the prospect of tonight.

"Where do dishes and the like go to be cleaned?" He had grabbed his fork, plate, and the knife from the cake's plate, and was preparing to walk in whatever direction she told him. He assumed that he would be pointed towards the kitchen, and he was not proven wrong.

"This way, in the kitchen. They go in the dishwasher there." She went over to what appeared to be a sort of cupboard at the height of an oven, which she then opened to reveal to 'trays', a top and a bottom. She put her plate on the bottom tray (which he was beginning to think looked more like a rack) and her fork in a holder of sorts. He followed her movements when she stepped away from he 'dishwasher', as she had called it.

"The knife goes on the top rack. If we put it with the rest of the silverware, it will break the container." She paused for a second. "Have you ever used a dishwasher before?"

"No, though I think I can figure it out easily enough. The name explains it all." He put the knife on the top rack, making sure that it could not slip through the holes and damage the rotors which he saw inside the machine. He closed it up when he backed away.

"We won't fire it off now, probably we will wait a while until we have some other dishes inside, like the mixing bowls, utensils, and mold I used to make the frosting and cake. Right now though, they are sitting in water to make sure that the batter comes off." That made sense to him. No point in wasting the water to clean a few dishes when they could be cleaning many.

"May I see my room now?" This had not been bugging him until just now, when he realized that he had never seen the space before.

"Of course! It is your room, after all." Erik noticed her frowning. "I believe that someone was here the other day with your clothes and the like. I also believe he put everything on the bed, just don't quote me on that." Someone had brought his stuff for him? Had he even packed his things for this place? He frowned as well. He could not even remember packing! And that could not have been to long ago, could have it? He tried to shake off his mental cobwebs. It would probably all come back to him soon enough.

"You alright?" Erik forced himself to lose his frown. "Do you not remember telling him to bring your things or something?"

"No, no. Everything is fine. And my memory is just fine as well." He hoped that she would not take to much notice of his memory inflection. It would not do to let her know that he seemed to be suffering from memory loss right now. It is not like she needed to know about it anyway. That was his own problem.

She gave him an odd look. "If you say so." But to him she seemed to get over it as soon as they went back down to the second floor. "Your room is through this door here. If you need me, bang on the wall or holler for me. I'll probably show up." With that she turned and went down the stairs.

Erik put his hand on the door handle and twisted it. He gently pushed the door open, curious as to what he would find, but not willing to barge in there. The room was right then lit by a pair of windows covered in blinds, but it was more than enough light for him to see by. The room was adorned with nothing more than a bed, a table, and a chair. He could see that it had a closet taking up the wall farthest from him, but there was nothing more than that. If he had known what a dorm room looked like, he would have compared it to one, just a bit bigger.

He noticed a stack of bags on the bed, and he rightly assumed that these were the things that the mysterious man had delivered. He frowned. If only he could at least remember a friend from his life previous to showing up on the doorstep! Then all of this, the bags, the teaching position, the school, and the names, would make sense to him. He sighed and threw himself on an empty portion of his bed. His weight caused the pile to shift and crash onto the floor. He groaned but bent down to pick up the mess anyway. It was not in him to leave such a pile on the floor. He sighed again. He really just wanted to stretch out onto the bed and sleep, but with the way things were right then, there simply would not be room for him on it.

Accepting that he would need to organize, he set to his duty. He was genuinely surprised at the sheer amount of stuff that he (or the mystery man) had been able to pack into the two and a half suitcases. Sheets, a ton of button down shirts, slacks, khakis, a few blazers, some ties, and casual clothes. Also stuffed in there were a few pens, at least one of them being a fountain pen, ink, and blank sheet music. He wondered about that. It's not like he could compose, even if he could remember some of his past. After all, he was just a language teacher. Though he had to admit that he enjoyed playing that piano downstairs. He only wished it had been larger, or grander. Actually, he would have preferred an organ.

He finished hanging clothes. Why would he want to play an organ, of all instruments? Even now he could recognize the organ as an incredibly hard instrument to play, what with all the knobs and keys and pedals. Yet he still felt as though he would rather play an organ than a piano, or any instrument for that matter. He smiled slightly. He could imagine his fingers racing over a three tiered stack of keyboards that made up the organ in his imagination. The room he was playing his fantasy in was large enough to even encompass the lowest note without the use of electronic subwoofers hidden within the pipes.

Erik sat down on the bed, which he had by then made with the sheets and blankets found in a suitcase, and continued his musical daydream. He was not aware of when his head hit the pillow, or when that daydream turned into a genuine dream.


	8. Chapter 8

The chapters are starting to get longer. Yay! :) Anyway, I don't own POTO. Comments, reviews, criticism, ideas, etc. are still (and always will be) greatly appreciated. Also, if you see any grammatically errors, I wouldn't mind if you told me about them so I could fix them. Thanks!  
Grandma Paula- you nailed it on the head

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"Erik?" Maria knocked on his door. "Erik, it's time to go to dinner now? Erik?" She waited a moment before rapping on his door again. "Erik, I am coming in." She drew open the door, not being sure of what to expect of what he had been doing for the past five hours.

Unsurprisingly, she found his room immaculate. The suitcases that were once on his bed were tucked out of sight, and she could imagine that his clothes had all been meticulously folded or hung and put away. Also unsurprisingly, she found him curled up on his bed. Even with the light being only provided from the hallway, with even that fading fast, she could tell that he was asleep, and probably had been for sometime. She hated needing to wake him up, he looked so peaceful, but she also knew that she would be on the receiving end of one of his glares if she didn't get him up for dinner. Then again, she probably would get one no matter what.

Movement made her eyes refocus upon his form. Where he had once been so still and seemingly peaceful, she could tell that he was jerking around. She stepped towards him, but stopped when he his fist hit the wall with a resounding bang. She winced, and restarted walking to him, only to freeze again when he started talking. She couldn't quite catch what he was saying though, as his face was pressed hard into the pillow.

Deciding that she probably should make him wake up at this point, she closed the remaining distance between them and shook him forcefully on the shoulder. Maria jumped back when his eyes snapped open. Odd. Only now could she see the color. Yellow. She had never met someone with yellow eyes before. These weren't brown in the slightest either. They were pure yellow, possibly with gold flecks. She also found it strange that she could only find the color now, in the darkness. He looked around for a few moments, not seeming to remember where he was until his eyes found her. It was rather unnerving. She could see a general outline of his body, and a slightly darker spot where he was sitting, but the only thing she could see with absolute clarity were his irises. They seemed to be looking her up and down.

"Did you change clothes?" He asked her suddenly. "Earlier, weren't you wearing a blue shirt?" He narrowed a glowing eye at her. She was getting rather creeped out. "Now its red."

"Okay, first of, you can see in this? Second off, you can see color in this? Third, do you know that your eyes seem to be glowing? And that they are yellow?" She was shocked.

He rolled his eyes at her. "Obviously I can see in this, and obviously I can see color in this. It actually isn't terribly dark, either. And yes, I know that my eyes are yellow, and that they reflect whatever light there might be in any given room. And if this is unnerving you as much as it seems to be, just turn on the light or draw the blinds."

Maria blushed. It was true though, she was rather deeply unnerved. "Sorry." She managed to stutter out. "It's time to go to dinner. You don't need to change like I did. I only did because I had cake batter on my shirt. Now, if you don't mind getting yourself off your bed, we can go." She earned another eye rolling before he stood.

"Well, lead the way. I have no idea how to get to the dining hall." He walked past her and opened the door, allowing light to flood the room. She noticed instantly that she could no longer tell the color of his eyes once more. She frowned at him. He gave her a look, which erased some of her curiosity. She could in fact see the gold in his eyes, but only when she looked very closely.

"Is something wrong?"

She blushed, once again caught staring at hime. "No. I'm just trying to see if I can see your eyes when it isn't dark. And I kind of can. Just not unless I look very closely." She hesitated, hoping that he wouldn't find it weird. Then again, she was definitely not the stranger of the two. "We should go now. Don't want to be late and all!"

Maria set off down the stairs, and only paused at the bottom door to open it. She didn't need to wait for him to catch up to her, for she knew that he would easily be able to keep up with her pace. The sun was very visible in the sky, for it was only early August.

"Campus is not normally this empty." She needed to fill the silence between them. "Right now though, there are no students. The new foreign students arrive tomorrow, and prefects should be getting back from their trip tonight. After the international students, all other new students will arrive, and after them, returning internationals. Finally, the returning students that haven't already come back arrive."

She pointed a hand at a brownish building. "That there is the Classics building. In it are classrooms for Greek, Latin, Philosophy, and various other things that could be put in there. The little brick structure that way is the Music house, where chorus, chamber choir, and a cappella groups rehearse." She couldn't tell whether or not he was paying any attention to her.

"The slightly gothic building in front of us is the chapel. Chapel services are held three times a week, and on Sundays there are other ones where students can fulfill their religious requirement for the term. Of course, they don't need to attend the Sunday service here. We often have shuttles to the local churches and mosques. Some students also go to meditation which counts for the requirement." He still didn't say anything. Either he was lost in thought, or he was reprimanding her for staring. She couldn't tell.

"If we go down this pathway," She continued at an intersection, "We pass the library to our right. That building, behind the chapel, is the Academic building, where math and modern languages are taught. There is also a student center in there where they can hang out after sports. Our destination though, is that building slightly to the left of us. The dining hall serves three meals a day. This year, every lunch, except for those on Wednesdays, will be seated at an assigned table. Each table has it's own number and two sides per table. I am at table 21 East; and I know that you have been placed at 7 West. If I recall, there will be another table head on that side to show you how to run the table." Maria frowned, trying to remember who else would be at that table, but before she was given a chance to come up with the name, they arrived in front of the dining hall. Maria stopped him before he could go in.

"Everybody in here is a good person in their own right. Please talk to them, or at least say 'hi'. You really don't want to make any enemies so soon in the year, especially when you are the newest faculty member on campus." Erik nodded his head slowly. Now it wasn't simple reluctance to talk, but nervousness, and she couldn't blame him. His appearance certainly does attract extra attention, and from what she has been able to learn about him from the past six hours, he's not much of a people person.

"May we go in now?" That was the first thing he had said to her since they left the dorm. She inwardly sighed with relief. She was not one who liked to leave silence in a space. She waved her arm in a grand gesture, pointing him in.


	9. Chapter 9

Here's a long Erik chapter for you. :) It's the usual speech today. I don't own POTO. Comments, review, ideas, suggestions, questions, etc are much appreciated.

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"May we go in now?" Erik knew that it had been rude to not talk to her since they left the house, but he very simply had nothing that needed to be expressed to her. She had been explaining some of his questions as they were walking. No point in wasting the air to say something already answered. Maria waved her arms crazily. He suspected that it might have been a mocking gesture of invitation and gave her a side glare. Still, he opened the door they were standing in front of and went in. She followed behind him.

They had entered into a room, more of a hallway than a room per-say, with coat hangers, benches, three sets of doors (that he could see from where he was) and a lone door apart from the others going inwards.

"You go in through that blue door there." Maria directed him towards the lone door. "The only times you don't are during seated lunch, and even then faculty likes to get their food before the students sit down." They passed through the door. "We want to stay to the right of that wall. If you go left, you go into the dish-pit." Dish-pit? "The dish-pit is where all the dirty dishes are put and washed after a meal. But the direction we are going opens up into the serving area. Essentially this area has all the cooked food." They passed to the right of the wall and entered into a proper room, and he let Maria go in-front of him. If she thought anything of it, she kept her mouth shut, and he was grateful.

As soon as he stepped foot into the buffet area, his ears were assaulted with noise. The clanging of dishes, the hum of machinery, and voices were all combined in a giant, noisy stew. Yet the number of people in the room did not match the number of voices that he heard. Erik looked around. He found another set of doorways leading into yet another room. Most of the voices were coming from those doorways. To his left, there was some piece of machinery where people were getting drinks, and to his right what appeared to be a fruit, bread, and soup station.

"Because it is dinner, everything right now is set up buffet style. It's rather straight forward. That there is a salad station, and that over there has the main meal of the day and noodles. Over there by that window is where desserts are set up. Everything is normally self served." She grabbed a pair of plates from under a counter and handed one to him. "Here, your going to need this. Unless you want the soup. Not really sure what it is tonight though." She went over to where people were helping themselves to the main meal, and he had nothing better to do but follow her. He could feel people staring at him. He never had liked that feeling. Silently he served himself some food, though he felt like he would be too nervous to eat it.

"Maria! How ya doing? This the new guy?" A man was coming over to her. Much shorter than Erik, with grey eyes set in a long face topped with a full head of brown hair. About the same size as Maria, in fact. He had a plate full of salad in one hand, and a glass of water and silverware in the other.

"Peter! Long time no see! I'm fine, thanks. This is Erik Destler. Erik, meet Peter DeWitt, an English teacher and the JV boys soccer coach.

"Nice to meet you Erik!" Peter appeared to be taking Erik in. He felt rather self-conscious right then. If Peter even noticed the mask, he wisely didn't say a thing. "Anyway Maria, the crew and I are over at table 17 if you want to join us."

"That'd be nice. And it would be a pretty good way to get him to meet some people." Maria nodded her head towards Erik. Even Erik felt as though he must look slightly petrified.

"Fair enough! See you guys over there in a minute or two then." He smiled. "I'll tell them that the new fellow has shown up." He left before either Maria or Erik would have had a chance to say anything to protest that, not that they would have anyway.

"Peter is a good person. Very happy all the time, quite a spirit lifter. I haven't seen him all summer though. He was with his family for most of it." She smiled. Erik was trying to focus on what she was saying. Her voice was like a lifeline for him, keeping him from drowning in this torrent of people. He could not recall (unsurprisingly) if he had ever been this public among people. He had a feeling that he had... at one point. He frowned slightly. In fact, he knew that he had been this social before! Just not on his own free will. There was fear then too. Way more so than whatever he was feeling now.

"Come on Erik. Grab some silverware, and we'll go sit down. And try and smile. It makes you look less scary, no offense." None taken to that last comment. He had to admit that if he met himself on some obscure back street, he would run. Actually, now that he thought about it, he probably would fight, or hide, not run. Whatever. He forced his lips to return to a neutral position. "Better. Let's go," He snagged a fork, knife, and napkin as he passed by the containers holding them.

Erik had thought that there was a goodly number of people in the kitchen. In this room, the real dining hall, as Maria stated to him, there was more. A lot more. Although it was obvious that this room was built to hold many more than what was seated in there right now, to him it seemed as though it was crowded. There were groups of teachers all over the place, from up on the raised area in the back of the dining hall, to the set of three doors that he had seen coming in. There was practically a group at each table. Movement caught his eyes, and he looked slightly up. There was a railing and another section to the dining hall, up above the floor that they were on. He wondered if it went underground too.  
"Up there is what we call the pantry. There is only one table up there, so not as many as you probably are thinking." It was like she could read his mind. "the table we are sitting at tonight, 17, is that one there. Right by that isle. It seems that the whole crew really is there tonight. This'll be the first time in ages." Maria smiled happily and waved to a few of her friends. Erik tried to hide his nervousness better.

"Maria! Good to see you again! I would ask how your students are treating you, except they haven't yet arrived." A lady was speaking, her dark brown curls bouncing with every word she spoke. It seemed as though she hadn't even noticed Erik when he sat down next to Maria. He concluded that observation was not one of her skills. Everyone else at the table though, they noticed him. He was, after all, a rather hard figure to miss.

"So, Maria, are you going to introduce us to your friend there?" Another women was speaking, this one looked shyer that the brunette that had been spoken. She had a pair of square framed glasses perched on a small nose, and her long, light colored hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

"Oh! Right. Sorry. This is Erik." He smiled nervously at them. She nudged him with her elbow and whispered under her breath something about greetings. He got his hint immediately.

"Hello." He hoped that one word would be good enough. Oddly though, they looked surprised. He had to wonder once more if his accent was really that bad. He cast a flighty glance at Maria, and she winked.

"Don't worry, they'll get over it soon enough. I had the same reaction when I first heard you too." She said softly under her breath.

"And what reaction would that have been?" He muttered back at her, equally quiet, and quite curious to hear if it wasn't any accent he might possess.

"Shock, surprise, and awe. You have a really amazing voice with a stunning quality to it." She paused before continuing. "It made me think of the voice of an angel."

He was the one to be surprised right then. An angels voice? Couldn't be possible. Clearly she must have been dreaming when they first met. He elbowed her. She gave him an innocent look followed by a glare. He returned it.

"So... How are you Erik?" Finally someone had recovered their wits. It was a person sitting next to Peter, an older man that was in the beginning stages of balding.

"Fine, thank you." He responded politely. He had a premonition that they was going to be questions. Lots of them. Inwardly, Erik groaned. He didn't even know the names of these people!

"You could at least introduce yourself Garrison! Maybe we should go around the table and say our names and what we teach. We do need to at least give the poor man a chance at recognizing us." The woman speaking smiled and waved a hand at him. "Hi. I'm Jessica. I'm a Bio teacher."

"Is that seriously all you could come up with for ideas, Jess? Could we at least make this creative?" A man with a French accent was speaking. "Bonjour Erik. I am Ricard. Clearly, I am from France.

"Where in France?" The question escaped from his lips before he thought about it, which also meant that it was in French itself.

"Another French speaker! I hail from Marseille, and you?" He responded in English. Erik wasn't sure whether to find that odd or not.

"I lived in Paris for a while." He did indeed know that he had been in Paris for a while, although he didn't know how long. He also somehow knew that he had been in some middle eastern country before that, though he could not recall where, and before that, a northern country.

"And before that?" Erik didn't like how personal this was getting.

"A small town in the Northern part of the country."

"Northern France is a large are-" He was cut off by a fellow that had yet to introduce himself.

"I do believe you have interrogated him enough for one day, Monceux." The speakers tone of voice made it evident to Erik that Ricard's presence was not welcome. He looked at the speaker, who sat at the head of the table. Even sitting, Erik could tell that the man he was looking at was quite strong, and probably rather tall. In a side part of his mind, he wondered which of them would be taller than the other.

"But I only just got here, Maddox!" Ricard whined, and Erik's opinion of the man continued to fly south.

"And you have just finished." Indeed, his plate was spotless though that wouldn't have mattered anyway.

"Well, I'm not full yet. My curiosity has not been sated! Erik, my boy," He bristled at his words and tone of voice. "Pray tell me, what is it that you are hiding? Under a mask, no less? I can see that something is clearly wrong with your lip. Perhaps what you are hiding is the rest of it? Is something wrong with you, mon ami?" Marceux stood, as though he hoped to intimidate Erik by height. "Tell me, my friend. Something is wrong with you, no?" Erik didn't say anything, though his words were true. "Come now, I know that you are not mute, as I have heard you speak! Unless you are stupid. That would make sense." Ricard gave him an evil smile, and even Maddox seemed unsettled by how far he was taking this. "You are hiding from your own stupidity. Now what a stupid idea that is! I bet that you hardly understand what I am saying! You..." The Frenchmen's insults continued while Erik passively sat watching the others reactions. Their faces were drawn and shocked. Finally, he grew sick of hearing that whining voice.

"Enough." It was spoken clearly, but the venom dripping from it could have poisoned a snake. Ricard froze. "I recommend that you leave now and do not annoy us further. You are nothing more that an insect to any of us at this table, Ricard. I wonder how long it will take for you to realize that." Erik let his loathing and pity mix with the venom. "Leave now, Ricard. Get out of here." Erik glared at Monceux's retreating figure. Where his glare at Maria had been gentle, and had simply frozen her to the spot, this glare was hot, seeming to burn the mans back. Only when the man was out of sight did the others at the table unfreeze. They seemed thoroughly shocked by how he had made him flee, as they stayed silent for what seemed like forever.

"Well... I've never seen anything like that before. Remind me sometime to not get you mad. I do think it would be a thoroughly unpleasant experience." The older man spoke, Garrison, Erik recalled.

A chorus of agreement came from the group. A heavy silence descended between them. At last, the man Erik knew only by the name of Maddox broke it. "Thank you for getting rid of him. I have been trying, and failing, for years. He never did seem to get it until now. I hope you realize that whatever he was saying about you wasn't the truth. He was trying to goad you on. He practically lives for fights.

"With all honesty, I zoned out after the first sentence or two." Erik smiled sheepishly at him. In truth, he had listened to the whole thing, but didn't absorb any of it. It was like he was used to being insulted, much worse than that.

Maddox returned his smile. "I like you, Erik. The name's Logan, by the way. And I think that you are going to like it here." He nodded his head in the direction in which Ricard had left. "Idiots like him are far and few between. He's just an exception. Anyway, welcome to Arxs School, Erik. The name is quite suiting. In Latin the word Arx, Arcis means fortress, castle or citadel. Therefore, welcome to our home on the hill, Erik, our fortress and our castle. In time I do believe that you will grow as fond of it as us."

Maria elbowed him. "Don't you begin to think that you are done meeting people for the night. You haven't met the department heads, or even the headmaster yet!"

Erik groaned. He had had enough people to last him a month.

Jessica, who seemed to Erik to be the bright and bubbly one of the group, piped up.  
"Don't worry! If you think this is a lot of people, wait till you meet all the students!" His expression must have read to them as something close to 'Oh God. More people!', for they seemed to get some amusement out of his plight.

"Speaking of..." Peter bobbed his head in the direction of the kitchen, where Erik could see people begging to line up. They looked younger than the teachers. "It appears that the prefects have returned."


	10. Chapter 10

I'm really sorry if tenses are messed up in this chapter. Multitasking and typing doesn't work, as I've found out. And... I don't own POTO. Comments (of anything) are much appreciated, as always. That includes tips, ideas, suggestions, critiques, etc.

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"Speaking of..." DeWitt's head tilted towards the kitchen. The prefects had returned! Maria couldn't wait for him to meet them! The Ferenbach prefects this year were Mary Brown and Chou Le, an odd pairing that somehow worked perfectly with each other. Mary, who comes from New Hampshire, was tall, brown haired, pale skinned (though not as pale as Erik) and was quiet until you knew her for a few weeks. Chou, on the other hand, hailed from Vietnam, and was much more outgoing than her counterpart.

"Prefects?" Right! She only mentioned prefects in passing! How foolish of her to overlook them!

"Did Maria not explain them to you?" Katherine spoke as she slid her glasses back up onto her nose. Erik shook his head. "Well, each dorm section has at least two prefects. It's two per section because some dorms have too many people for two prefects. Take Dotts for example. It's a boys dorm, but it has six prefects and three sections, lower, middle, and upper, or L, M, and U. Each section has seven rooms, and about fourteen people. Therefore, it's a one to seven ratio, which isn't bad. Now if you were to have only two prefects for the entire dorm..." Katherine did the math in her head quickly. "You would have a ratio of one to twenty-one, which is slightly crazy given the duties of a prefect."

"Which you haven't yet explained." Marissa butted in, her curls bouncing merrily. "Sorry that she takes so long to get to the point. What she was supposed to say is that-"

"Prefects watch over the underformers, who are-"

"Anyone that is not a senior, and they make sure they do their-"

"Homework. They also help solve-"

"Any problems that their students might have, even if-"

"It has to do with grades, or-"

"Personal life." By then Marissa and Katherine were having a glaring match with each other. Maria looked over at Erik, who appeared rather amused (and, was that jealousy?) by their obvious camaraderie.

"Of course, not all prefects have to be seniors." Maria had felt inclined to point this out. "Mary and Chou, our prefects, are only fifth formers."

"Well, yes. But there's only three pairs of fifth form prefects, and this is the first year the schools ever done them. Besides, Mary and Chou are much more mature than some of the sixth formers I viewed who wanted to be prefect." Maria had forgotten that Marissa was involved with the prefect search at the end of each year.

"Fair enough. Speaking of the devil, here they come now." Maria was twisted so she could see behind her. Catching the prefects eyes, she waved them over to the table. Obligingly, they came over, their plates, utensils and drinks precariously balanced.

"Hello ms. Isse," Mary looked around at the other teachers. "And crew." Coming from any other student, this would have been nearly insulting. Understandable, yes, but still insulting.

"Good to see that you two have come back alive!" Jess spoke.

"Heh. The deep dark woods couldn't scare us!" Chou was speaking, her voice mocking. "After all, we had our crazy bitter-beaver to defend us." She smirked, and Mary shoved her.

"I'll bitter-beaver you Chou!" You could practically see Mary growling at her. If anything, these two were closer than Katherine and Marissa. Maria looked over at Erik to see what he thought of the spectacle. There was no denying it this time. He was slightly envious of the two of them. She had to wonder why. Had he never had a close friend before? If so, that would be sad. In her mind, everyone needed a close friend. The prefects sat down.

"This is Erik Destler. He's your other dorm parent." She didn't need to gesture at him to make it clear who she was talking about. After all, he was the only teacher at the table that they did not yet know.

"Hullo mr. Destler. I'm Mary Brown. I think I'm going to be in your Italian class this year."

"What, your not taking Chinese anymore? Shame on you! All of that pushing you to do it for the past two years, wasted!"

"Mom is still making me take it Chou. Chill out. I don't want to though." Mary made a face. "Learning Chinese sucks." Maria couldn't help but notice that the girl seemed to be opening up a lot faster than last year. Probably due to her friend.

"Yeah, well, get over it." Chou turned back to Erik. "Yup. I'm Chou. I'm weird."

"She calls people by their street number and zipcode."

"Sure do 231 03580." They smiled at each other, as though sharing an inside joke. Knowing the pair, they were probably choosing from out of a couple hundred. As if they saw that there wasn't much more to talk about, they dug into their food with the zeal only teenagers could manage.

"The hike wear you out?" Garrison questioned when he saw the rate of food consumption. Chou shook her head.

"It was the ropes course. And we're teenagers. And there's good cake tonight which looks like it will be going fast." He ahhed, as if that answered everything, which it did. About half-way through their meal, a few people waved to them from across the dining hall.

"Do you mind if we..." Mary looked in the direction of the waving seniors. Maria recognized how awkward it must seem to be sitting with a bunch of teachers.

"Go for it." And like that, the prefects of Ferenbach were half a dining hall away, chatting merrily with some other prefects. Maria looked back at Erik. Somewhere in there, without her noticing, he had made his plate spotless. And indeed, although her plate was not empty, she was full. She looked around the dining hall, trying to spot the headmaster, or maybe some department heads. Seeing no one of consequence, she spoke to him.

"Do you want to head back? I don't see anyone you need to know right now- they've already left."  
"I would like that." Maria wondered what had gotten into him. He had seemed at least reasonably content earlier. Though she couldn't see his eyes very well, to her if felt as though he was radiating discomfort.

Maria stood and gathered up her plate, and Erik did the same.

"See you guys around sometime." When Maria had recieved an echo of her words, back, she turned and walked into the kitchen, going to the blue door (but not out of it) and turning so that the wall was on their right. This area was indeed this dish-pit, armed with a couple slide through dishwashers, sinks, and some vicious looking grinding thing affectionately called the pig by the kitchen staff.

"Forks in that tray there, knives next to it. Plates we just put here," she put her plate on a stainless steel counter, "and glasses go above into those racks above the counter." Maria led Erik out into the kitchen, where they ended up behind the hot-buffet. After all, the wall was only there to keep some semblance of order when 500 some-odd students needed to clear their plates and decided to do it at the same time. They walked back to the blue door and went out, retracing their steps until they were back outside.

"Why not you lead the way back to the dorm? You need to start memorizing this place somehow." He only nodded his head at the suggestion, and took the lead. Maria frowned, thinking that he must be deep in thought, or that he was ignoring her again for some reason. Either way, it was something said at dinner. Perhaps Ricard's words were getting to him? That man had said some incredibly rude and derogative things to him. Maria frowned harder at the memory. The only words that had stood out to her radiated back into her head. 'Freak. Mask-wearing monster. Stupid." Those words were strong enough used in any context to rock someones core. Yet Erik didn't seem like the type of person to let simple words go to his head. Then again, they had only just met, and even now Maria could tell that he had more layers than an onion.

They arrived back at Ferenbach a few minutes after they left the dining hall. The dorms in Mac Village, where they where, were some of the farthest dorms on campus, topped only by Oak House, which was just starting to be used, and was on the other side of the school.

"The door won't open." At last he spoke. His voice was neutral, and although she could tell their was something on his mind, she didn't ask.

"You haven't gotten your school ID yet. It doubles as a key card. Sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier, it's in a file with the rest of the information you will need to know. Your Ipad's in there too." She swiped her key card near a reader set ubiquitously at the side of the door. It opened with an audible click and they went inside. She picked up his file that she had put on the bookcase and handed it to him atop an Ipad.

"Here. Your schedule is in there, as well as a keycard, a regular key for the dorm, and general information. Have you ever used an Ipad before?" He didn't seem like one to know the technology. And indeed, he shook his head.

"I would rather experiment with it a bit on my own first before asking for help. If you do not mind, I would like to go downstairs and read the contents." His tone of voice clearly indicated that he would like to be alone. She consented, and he disappeared down the stairs. She noticed that even on a hard wood floor while wearing shoes, she could not hear his footsteps. Maria shook her head. He was, so-far, the most unusual person she had met in terms of appearance and bearing. Probably he would turn out to be the strangest person she knew in terms of personality as well. But only time would tell that.

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"He's certainly an odd fellow, isn't he?" Garrison spoke as soon as Erik and Maria had left the table.

"Highly unusual." Marissa answered. "Doesn't seem to be terribly social either."

"True, true. Did you see how Maria had to nudge him to even get him to say 'hi'?"

"Yeah, but when he spoke... I wasn't the only one that heard his voice, was I?" Katherine mocked a question, still, the group shook their heads. "Have any of you ever heard a voice like that? I know that I certainly haven't." Again, they shook their heads.

"And his mask!" Exclaimed Jess. "A half face mask! Thoroughly strange and fascinating! I wonder why he feels as though he must wear it?"

"Did you see his lip? The one that Ricard had noticed? Maybe he was deformed somehow." Peter joined in the conversation. The crew seemed to agree with that.

"But I wonder if it could really be so bad as to make him feel like he must wear a mask."

"Mmh." Logan agreed. "There are certainly going to be a lot of rumors flying around about him. I wonder what they will come up with for a background. Ten bucks they're going to say he killed someone and that he hides his face so no one will recognize him."

"Bring it." Maddox and Peter shook hands. "I bet that they are going to think he was burned in a fire."

Garrison had to shake his head at how his friends find ways to amuse themselves. Yet he still had to wonder. Personally, he thought that Destler had been born that way and had grown up tormented because of it. Whatever. No-one would know unless he opened up and told someone. And that didn't seem very likely to happen.


	11. Chapter 11

Two chapters a day on Sundays! Enjoy

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Perhaps his actions to Maria had been rude, but he really did not want to be with people. The fact that he had even gone with her amazed him. He didn't know why he had let her make him go up to that dining hall. He knew that someone would take it into their head to tease him. Sure, he knew that, and sure, that certainly was something that made him slightly more sullen, but it was the obvious friendships that had gotten to him. He didn't know why though. Had he not a good friend before he arrived at the school? He knew at least one thing for certain though. He had been jealous. Extremely jealous. Envious, some might say. Point is, he wanted that camaraderie. And he knew that he would not get one as powerful as what the prefects shared. Or what those two people at the table shared. He would consider himself lucky if people were able to look him in the eye and to not be distracted by his appearance.

Erik frowned harder. Was it normally like him to think such down thoughts? Perhaps it was his memory loss. Lord knows that that was certainly getting on his nerves, even if it had been only a day. Maria handed him something, though he didn't pay attention to what.

"Have you ever used an Ipad before?" A what? Erik tuned back in at the tone of her voice. He nearly grimaced. He knew that she was going to offer how to show him. He really did not want to be near people right now, even if it was just one person. He heard himself say something. It probably was rather rude and dismissive. She'll live. He walked by her and went down the stairs to his bedroom, where he turned on the light to read the packet. Indeed, reading something would probably distract him enough to make him not think about his memory.

His eyes skimmed the pages. It had a basic file on him. Hair color, height estimate (they were wrong on that) and other trivial things that he already knew. Oddly, he found that it did not mention where he went to school, or what he got a degree in. Did he even go to college? He growled at himself. He couldn't even remember that! He shoved the file aside, not even bothering to read the rest of the packet right then. Instead, he turned his attention to the rectangular device that Maria had called an Ipad.

The device itself appeared to be in some form of case. It had a logo on the back, which presumed to be the school's seal, for it had the words 'The Arxs School' floating around what appeared to be a mountain with a sun behind it, and a sword going into it. He opened the case. Indeed, it was a case, for the device inside it could clearly be disconnected somehow. The thin tablet (for he could not find anything else to compare it to) wasn't terribly big. It had a shiny black perimeter, but the middle of it seemed even darker. He set this to rest in a niche built into the case. The case on the inside, he noticed, appeared to be a typewriter of some sort. Very thin though. Impossibly thin even. He frowned, for he knew that he had learned to type on a type-writer. They had even been new when he had learned! And most certainly had they been incredibly blocky. Often the one he used had jammed until he had taken it apart and rebuilt it to make it more efficient. It was even blockier when he was done with it, not that he had ever moved it or anything. When had a version such as the one he was looking at invented? It seemed impossible! He shook his head forcibly and focused on the tablet itself. He flipped it around in his hands. He counted four buttons, one slider, two holes of different shapes, and two very small extra glass parts asides from the front. To him, they looked like a camera lens, but again, that was impossible. He knew, as a fact, that the cameras he had seen before coming here were all big, blocky, and rather impractical. Was it possible that this device was a camera? Could it also type?

Erik grabbed a piece of paper and wrote down his observations with a messy scrawl that he recognized as his. When he had finished recording that, he pressed some of the buttons. The first one he tried had was circular, and had a rounded, white square in the center of it. He pressed it quickly, and when nothing happened, he held it down for a few seconds. He shrugged, recorded, and moved on to the side buttons. Again, they did nothing. He moved to the top one and held it down. The screen changed! It seemed to be glowing black. Did this device have lights in it? The screen changed again, and a white... apple... showed up. Erik watched, fascinated. It faded out slightly, and he cocked his head to the right. The apple stayed like that for a few seconds, and then it suddenly brightened. He watched with the wide eyes of a child. The screen turned white and blue with text on it.

'Welcome to Apple Ipad. Swipe right to continue.' Swipe right? The language of the text changed. And again. How was he supposed to 'swipe right'? Did they expect him to touch the light thing? Carefully, he pressed his finger against the screen and swiped right. He smiled. The screen had followed his finger! 'Please select your language.' And again, the text kept changing languages. On the bottom of the present screen, a white box had shown up. Languages were listed in their own language. He couldn't see French on there, so he tried touching the screen once more, this time on the box. More language options showed up. He giggled. This could be fun. He pressed the button that said French in his native tongue. Indeed, the next piece of text that showed up appeared in French. He followed it's instructions. What's an Icloud? He hit the screen where it said skip. An Itunes account? With an email? His mind was a complete blank as to the meanings of these things. He knew what mail was, but with an e before the mail? He wrote down all his observations on the paper once he pressed skip again. This time, the screen completely changed. It had color! Genuine color! Like reds, and blues and greens! Photographs didn't even have color! This was impossible! He decided that he must be dreaming. That's it. He's dreaming, and when he wakes up, he'll be back in Paris, at whatever flat he called home. But the colors! And their were more buttons! Well, not really buttons. Color things on the glowing part. They were rounded squares, like the one on the circular button. He bit his bottom lip and smiled harder. He was going to enjoy this dream while it lasted. With pleasure, he began tapping buttons to see what they did.

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Three hours later, he was confident that he knew how to work this thing. He even had figured out the voice-activated thing if you pressed a few times on the circular button. He knew how to get the type-writer working by swiping up on the screen and tapping an icon that looked like a very fancy and stylized 'B'. He had figured out that there was another 'page' of sorts to it, with other icons. The round button, he found, made the screen switch back to whatever main page he had been on previously. Erik glanced at the page of notes he had been taking. The script was pathetically, and impressively, small. It went out of the lines, and continued around the piece of paper. Sure, to the average person, or really anyone not him, it would be virtually impossible to decipher. He didn't even need it. He shoved the piece of paper into a drawer of his desk, where it would probably never see the artificial light above him. He would have questioned that, except he was too interested by the tablet. Yet he knew that he needed to sleep. If he didn't get any, then he would not be able to figure out more about the tablet in the morning. Yes, he would sleep, if only for a little while.

He took off his mask and plopped it on the desk next to the Ipad. He changed into sleepwear and slipped under the covers, where he forced himself to close his eyes and sleep. It still took nearly an hour for him to be overcome by sleep, and even then, his mind continued to race.


	12. Chapter 12

I apologize in advance if the next chapters seem scattered. Trying to study for exams while typing. It's not working. Either way, I don't own POTO. And any form of comment is welcome with open arms.

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"Erik!" Maria pounded on the door. "Erik! Wake up! We need to greet the new kids. Get up!" When she heard nothing stir, she banged more furiously. "I will come in there if you do not respond within five seconds. Hear me? One... two... three..." She counted the seconds slowly. "Four..." She hear something hit the ground inside. "Five... you okay in there?" She could imagine Erik waking up on the floor and wondering where in the world he was. She got a groan in reply. "Come on Destler. We have teenagers to greet." She could practically see the look on his face. She bet, that for all the world, he had completely forgotten that the new foreign students were arriving today. "The first one will probably be here in five minutes." That was met by a flurry of activity that she could hear come from within. Quite suddenly, the door was pulled in, and Erik flew out. He was half-dressed, with a pair of khaki pants, socks, and his mask even. He still wore a sleep-shirt though. "You need this." Maria held out a shirt, he snatched it out of grasp and the door clicked shut before she even knew the shirt was gone. "Morning to you too!"  
She called through the door. If all mornings were going to go like this, then he certainly needed an alarm.

He came out literal seconds later, completely dressed, and trying to smooth down his hair. "Morning." Maria smiled. He was clearly not a morning person, if that half hearted grumble was to indicate anything. He slipped by her and into the bathroom. She assumed that he was brushing his teeth, for she had seen his toothbrush when she herself needed to do the same.

"When your done, come upstairs to the kitchen." Maria heard him say something through the toothbrush, but wasn't exactly sure what. She took that as an acknowledgement, and started up the stairs herself. She wandered into the kitchen to look out the window. From her vantage point, she could just barely see the parking lot. She stared out at it, her vision focusing on nothing. She felt, rather than heard, him approach. He certainly had quite a presence! Very dignified, but dark, and majestic, just nervous. Certainly it was a presence that would make heads turn. And indeed, she turned her head.

He didn't look like he woke up minutes ago. He could have been up for hours, for all that she could tell. The only that implied that he just woke was that a bit of his hair was sticking strait up. She assumed it had been the bit he had been fiddling with when he walked by her. She chose to ignore it, instead handing him a muffin, and continuing to look out the window.

"We're on greeting duty for the first three hours. Essentially, we get to point people towards their prefects."

"Sounds joyous. Very exciting." She smiled at his sarcasm. It was a good thing coming from him after he seemed so sullen last night.

"Terribly so. In fact, how 'bout we start now!" She turned and pushed him towards the door. He went along with her without protest. He opened the door for the pair of them, and they walked down the stairs leading to their house together. She hadn't seen the car park, only pull up. A father was getting out from the drivers side, and the teenager, the other. The man looked Asian, possibly Chinese.

"Hello! Welcome to Arxs. I'm Maria Isse, and this is Erik Destler." She jerked a thumb at Erik before accepting the mans outstretched hand. Maria noticed that he was avoiding looking at Erik.

"Good to meet you. I am-" Not a Chinese name. Vietnamese then? "This is my daughter, Mai." Vietnamese definitely.

"Nice to meet you mr. Phan and Mai! Mai will be staying in Exter, which is that dorm there." Maria waved directed them to Exter, where Mai's prefects were waiting. "If you need any help whatsoever, then simply talk to anyone. Everyone is willing to be of assistance."

"Thank you ms. Isse." No thanks to Erik. Luckily he didn't seem to mind. Perhaps he was a morning person. He just wasn't great at the whole waking up thing. He certainly seemed to be in a much better mood than he had been last night. Maria shrugged inwardly. She could certainly ask him about it, but she had the feeling that the matter was best left alone. While the prefects of Exter rushed to help Mai unpack her things and get settled into her room, another car pulled up.

"You should greet these people." Erik seemed slightly taken aback at the suggestion.

"You did just see the Phan's reaction to me, did you not? I doubt that these people will react any different."

"Well, you never know. Besides, you didn't exactly say anything to them."

"The man couldn't even look at me." Maria grimaced. It was a true thing though. Mr. Phan had taken one glimpse at Erik, and immediately ignored him.

"Give these people a chance." Maria looked up towards his eyes. She could see them turn down to meet hers. "Please?" She mustered the sweetest voice that she could find. "Just this once?" He huffed, and Maria smiled at his defeat. The newcomers stepped out of a car, and seemed to be continuing a conversation in their home language. She nearly frowned; she couldn't identify the language (which wasn't saying much) or their nationality.

"They're Egyptian." Erik answered her unspoken question. Maria looked back up at him in surprise. He shrugged. "They are speaking Arabic with and Egyptian accent."

"Wait. You're saying that you can tell accents in Arabic?" Disbelief was evident in her voice.

"Can you tell that an English accent is different than an America accent?"

"Well yes, but I grew up speaking English. From what I know about you, you grew up speaking French." As he nodded his agreement, the Egyptians approached. Maria elbowed him, and he shot a fast glare at her.

"Hello. Welcome to Arxs School. I am Erik Destler, and my companion is Maria Isse." The poor family didn't know what to think of him, and Maria barely managed to restrain a smile. They spoke animatedly in Arabic to each-other. Erik's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes, this is where Exter dorm is." He answered their question. She hadn't even know they had a question. "If you go to those two girls over there," he pointed towards Exter's prefects, "they will help you unload and get settled in." The pair went over to the prefects and continued to mutter in their language. Maria looked at him.

"That wasn't too bad. You could work on your friendliness though. Try smiling next time." To prove her point, she made her lips smile. "And you do know it isn't terribly polite to eavesdrop." He didn't look guilty in the slightest.

"I was only listening because they were speaking right in front of us. That wasn't 'terribly polite', as you put it, either." He didn't even sound indignant, and Maria rolled her eyes. This was going to be an interesting three hours.

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Please note that the name Phan isn't pronounced like Fan, but like Fawn, as in a baby deer. And Mai isn't pronounced as May the month, but My, like 'My oh my, what a wonderful day!'


	13. Chapter 13

And exam week continues. Once more I apologize if these next chapters (including this one) are rather scattered. Also, I realize that Erik doesn't seem very... Eriky yet. He will get more Eriky later.  
I don't own POTO or relating characters:(. Comments, tips, ideas, corrections, etc. are still appreciated (and always will be!)

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Why was she making him greet these people! It's not like they are going to even acknowledge his presence. The Vietnamese pair had completely ignored him. Did Maria really expect these people to be any different? He glared at Maria when the duo approached.

"Hello. Welcome to the Arxs School. I am Erik Destler, and my companion is Maria Isse." He tried to hide his sour look at their bewildered expressions. They began talking in rapid fire Arabic. He could understand the language just fine, although he didn't know if he could speak it. It was rather like how he could speak English. Very simply put, he couldn't remember ever learning the language, or even hearing it before, yet he was fluent. He listened in.

"This can't be the right place! It is guarded by this strange man and his friend!" The man spoke.

"Well, this is where the headmaster said to go. Remember? He said Exter dorm, in Mac village. 'Follow the signs, and take your first left. There should be someone there to greet you.' Remember? These people are greeting us! And we took the first left. Let's just ask where the dorm is."

"Yes, this is where Exter dorm is." He nearly smirked at their expression as they comprehended that he could understand everything they were saying. Luckily, he managed to keep a straight face. Maria, on the other hand, looked rather shocked. He pointed them towards the dorm, where the prefects stood. They had gotten a pair of male prefects to do all the hauling of heavy stuff for them. "If you go to those two girls over there, they will help you get settled in." The two walked away, and spoke under their breath indignantly as they did. Maria looked up at him.

"That wasn't too bad." She continued on with suggestions for him. He didn't pay attention to them. "-terribly polite to eavesdrop." What wasn't polite? Eavesdropping? He wasn't eavesdropping though.

"I was only listening because they were speaking right in front of us. That wasn't 'terribly polite', as you put it, either." That was a fact. They could have used a dose of politeness, not that he was going to be the one to judge. He saw Maria roll her eyes at him.

"Do you want the next people, or do you want me to take them?" She was even bothering to ask him?

"Do you even need to ask that?" What was she thinking? That he would suddenly want to smile and help people after the first two's reactions towards him?

Maria frowned. "Well, too bad. Your still going to have to take the people after the next." It was true, but only if they were going to be rotating who greets. "You come off scarier if you don't say anything." He did? "So, I'm going to make you speak to each person, even if it's not your turn." That's silly. She couldn't make him speak if he didn't want to.

"And what if I don't want to speak?" He was curious to see what she would respond with.

"Well, then I'm going to..." She thought about it for a second. Her pause confirmed what he already knew. She couldn't do anything. "I'm going to talk to them about you." What? She nodded her head once. "I will start spreading rumors to the staff too. We gossip like the kids we teach here, you know. It's rather crazy. Nothing stays secret for long. Someone could kiss someone at midnight, and fifteen minutes later the entire school would know. Rumors are like a fire." She smiled. "And the students wonder how teachers know everything. If they only knew that we are worse than them!" He frowned, finding the flaw in her plan.

"You don't have anything to spread about me." He cocked his head to the side. "Do you?" She paused, and his frown became neutral once more.

"Rumors don't need to be true." She managed after great length. "I could say that you wear a mask because you stole from some really big bank, and people would believe it, if it got around far enough." Seriously? Stealing from some really big bank? Is that all she could come up with? She must have seen his rather amused expression, for she blushed a bit. "I could probably come up with something better."

"Really?" He laced his voice with sarcasm. "I like the bank theory. It has..." He paused a moment, trying to think of an English word that would work. His shoulders slumped slightly when he couldn't come up with anything. "It has... It has... interest?" That word didn't seem quite right though. Not the meaning that he wanted.

"Interest?" She looked up at him. "Is that the only word that you could think of?" He looked at her indignantly.

"It's still better than your 'oh no! I robbed a bank!' theory." He paused. "How much did you imagine me stealing?" Maria slugged him on the arm and laughed. "What? I really want to know."

"Seriously?" He nodded, and she considered it. "Only a hundred or so. The security guards chased you off." Ouch.

"Only a hundred?" He felt rather insulted. "I think I could do a bit better than you think I could. Maybe a couple thousand."

Maria shook her head. "No. Really, I only think a hundred. The guards would have chased you off before you could grab more." He frowned. She thought that he could only steal a hundred dollars. He knew that he should leave it at that, but he was rather insulted. Maybe if he took something off of her person, she would re-estimate. He looked over her, deciding what to do. She had a watch on, but it wasn't an option, for she was holding that wrist with her other hand. He could go for her key-card, which was sticking out of her back pocket, but that would be mere pick pocketing. He smiled inwardly when he saw that she was wearing a necklace. It would be heavy enough that she could feel it when she was wearing it, but it was delicate enough to be quite pretty. Perfect.

He undid the clasp quickly, with a practiced hand that startled him. He was back where he was standing before she even recognized that he moved. She didn't notice a thing. He focused on her neck, where the necklace was before he removed it.

"What are you looking at?" She was probably rather self-conscious. He shrugged curiously.

"It's just that I thought you were wearing a necklace." He made himself sound rather innocent.  
"I am wearing a necklace now, just the same as I was earlier." She reached a hand up to where it was. It found nothing, and she paled.

He held the piece in his left hand, examining it. "It is very pretty. Quite nice. Made out of silver, with small..." He took a second to identify the little blue stones set in the loops of the piece. "Sapphires. Probably worth a small fortune." He looked at her and smirked. "Slightly more than a hundred dollars." Her face was priceless.

"How did you get it?" Such a small voice! "I was wearing it this entire time! You couldn't have gotten it without me noticing!" She resembled a petulant child.

"Obviously, it was very possible to take it without you noticing, otherwise, I wouldn't have it in my hand, would I?" He took another second to admire it, then handed it back to her. "As to how I did that, I'm not entirely sure." He frowned. Honestly, the skill that he had stolen it with startled him. She put the necklace back on and glared at him.

"How can you not be sure of how you took my necklace straight off of me!" He shrugged. "Don't you shrug at me! I want to know."

"I can demonstrate for you, if you would like." Well, at least he hoped he could. She nodded. "I'll do it with your watch, so you can look at it the entire time." When her eyes settled on the watch, he made his move. With the same speed that he had grabbed the necklace with, he stepped forwards, undid the watch, and grabbed it off of her. He was once more back where he started before she could look up at him with wide eyes. He held up the watch.

"I didn't even see you move! One second I was staring at the watch, the next it was gone! Poof! How did you do that!?" Her awe was evident, and he handed her watch back to her.

"I honestly am not really sure. I just made up my mind to take it, and I took it. It wasn't very hard, either." He shrugged again, and Maria narrowed her eyes slightly at him.

"Are you a professional thief?" A thief? No. Well, at least he didn't think he was. He shook his head.

"No. I suppose I am just someone who has a talent for taking things." Her eyes narrowed further, and she gave him the strangest look. He felt like he was being dissected. Those blue eyes could really tear someone to shreds. Yet he met them with his own. They stared at each other like this for what felt like forever to both of them. At last, a car pulled up, and Maria broke the the stares.

"We should probably get back to greeting people." She looked down at her feet. Erik agreed.

"It's your turn now."

"Yes, I suppose it is." She stepped forwards to acknowledge the newcomers, but not without checking to make sure her necklace was still there. He frowned at this, disappointed that she would not trust him. Before he had a chance to speak, the people got out of the car, and the cycle of greetings started once more.

* * *

Maria collapsed onto the couch with a groan. And to think! More of this tomorrow. She made a face at the thought. They had ended up staying out much longer than the original three hours, helping out continuously with new arrivals. Erik had gotten the hang of greeting very quickly, even if his smile was forced. That didn't surprise her much. He seemed like a fast learner.

The man flopped onto a chair with a sigh. Maria opened her eyes to see that he was completely spread out, with arms to the side, and feet as far away from him as they could get. His eyes were shut tight, and when he began to breath slowly and steadily she knew he was asleep. She had to agree with him.


	14. Chapter 14

About halfway through exams. I apologize if I can't update often for the next day or so. finding time to type is (finally) getting hard. Other than that, the standard speech about not owning POTO/related characters. Tips, comments, etc are still (and shall always be!) appreciated.

* * *

Her eyes cracked open slowly, and she winced against the light. She couldn't remember where she was. In fact, the last thing she remembered was sitting on the couch. Was she still there? She pushed her arms out to the sides, confirming that she was indeed on the couch when one of them hit something squishy. She sat up slowly, and was quite relieved when she noticed that she didn't have any kinks in her back. Her eyes wandered slowly across the room, taking in the brightness coming from outside. Maria smiled when she saw Erik, who was still quite asleep. He had twisted around in the chair, so that his legs were hanging off of one armrest, and the rest of him the other. One hand was grabbing the top of the chair, while his other one was resting on the floor. Overall, it did not seem like a comfortable position. Her gaze eventually settled on the clock hanging on the far wall. 9:56. She smiled at it dreamily. 9:56. What a nice time. Something very nice about that time, 9:56.

Her eyes flew wide open. 9:56! Students were probably already arriving! She hopped to her feet, still dizzy from waking up. She grabbed Erik's shoulders and shook him forcibly. He batted an arm limply at her.

"Up! Get up! Students are here!" Seeing that he wouldn't move, she grabbed one of his hands and pulled him off the chair. He sat up when he hit the hard wood floor, and only then.

"What time is it?" He rubbed his eyes. Well, attempted to rub his eyes. He could only get at the one not on the same side of his face as the mask. He gave up when he realized that he still had it on.

"9:58 or so! Students are already here, and our shift started nearly half an hour ago! Hopefully the other dorm parents will be covering us, but..." She trailed off. It just didn't seem right to put their duties on someone else. Erik seemed to understand, for he stood and once more towered over her. His face twisted slightly when he did so. Probably because of his odd sleeping position. They tore down the stairs together, separating at their respective rooms to put on a change of clothes. Their outfits for this day were identical to the clothes they wore yesterday. An Arxs t-shirt and a pair of khakis. Maria finished freshening up in what she considered to be record time (3 minutes) and went up the stairs. Of course, Erik had finished before her. In fact, it looked like he had been waiting there for a couple of minutes.

"Let's go." Maria grabbed a granola bar and walked out the door.

Maria jogged down the steps quickly, worried that someone might have thought they were out there already. She sighed with relief when she saw the dorm parents of Mercer (one of the boys dorms in Mac) there. They were directing a family towards the other boys dorm, Sciller, when she walked over to them.

"Sorry we're late. Slept past the alarm." The other dorm parents waved it off.

"It's fine. You guys were out here all day yesterday. The least we could do was come out early." The man who spoke eyes settled upon Erik. "I don't believe we've met yet." He held out his hand. "I'm Alex Longacre, the music director here. This is my wife, Alisha. We're in Mercer." They shook hands. "You're Erik Destler, right? Maria's new housemate." Erik nodded his head. This was a very one-sided conversation. "Nice to meet you."

Maria saw that Erik wasn't going to say anything. She decided to be nice, and to point out that people were walking over to them. When the newcomers were within fifteen feet of them though, she switched her role.

"Erik'll greet them." She smiled devilishly at him. "It is your turn after all." He glared down at her, but her timing was perfect. He couldn't say anything before the arrivals were within polite speaking distance of them. He glared at her once more before forcing his lips to turn up.

"Good morning. Welcome to Arxs. I am Erik Destler, and these are Maria Isse and Alisha and Alex Longacre." Maria searched the Longacre's faces for that look of wonderment that had befallen everyone else when they heard Erik's voice for the first time. She wasn't disappointed, though they were trying to disguise it in front of the new student and her family. "Do you know what dorm you are going to be staying in this year?" He continued. The student was the first to speak, and it took her a few seconds to compose herself.

"Erm, yeah. Ferenbach? Is that how you say it?" The girl hardly knew what to make of Erik.

"Ferenbach is indeed how you say it. Maria and I are going to be your dorm parents this year then." A less forced smile came to his lips. "If you go to that dorm there, the one where the prefect is standing, she will help you." Erik stepped aside to let them pass by, and as soon as their backs were to him he resumed his glaring at Maria.

She smiled innocently up at him. "You didn't say anything while greeting the Longacres. That was punishment." His eyes narrowed. Maria was quite happy that this glare was much more playful than the one that he had frozen her to her seat with. If it was that kind of glare, she would have melted by now. She couldn't imagine what she would be doing if he gave her the glare that he had given Ricard. It probably would have been painful.

"You have an incredible voice." At last! The music director had broken free of his surprise. "I have never heard anything like yours in all my years of teaching music. I don't mean to be creepy or anything, but I do know what I am talking about." He seemed to hesitate a moment. "I wonder what you would sound like singing."

"That is starting to veer on the side of creepy dear." Alisha pointed out to him. Alex shrugged apologetically at Erik, who by now was giving him a very strange look. No one spoke, and the silence that enveloped them became rather awkward.

"He can play the piano." Anything to break the silence. Maria did not like those silences. Erik looked at her, seeming to be rather mortified that she would tell them that. "He can play really well." Alex swiveled his head back towards Erik.

"You can?" He glimpsed at his hands. "I imagine that you probably would be rather good at it too, judging off the length of your fingers." Erik's response was to curl his hands into fists.

"Maybe he will play for you sometime." She nudged Erik, who resumed his glare at her.

"I would love to hear. Maybe later today, when your shift ends." Maria nodded to that.

"When our shift ends." She echoed. "Swing on by our house, there's a piano in the basement."

"Until then, Maria and Erik." Alex turned and walked back towards his house in Mercer.

"I apologize if he does come off as a bit... unusual. It takes some time to get used to it. But really, he is a wonderful man. Anyway, bye!" Alisha chased after her husband, and they both disappeared inside their house.

"Sweet pair, aren't they? Rather perfect for each other, with Alex's... eccentricity, and Alisha's calmness. They balance each other out so well." Erik didn't say a word, instead choosing to stare straight ahead. "The silent treatment? Seriously? You can come up with better than that." She frowned accusingly at him. And after a moment, she decided that she probably shouldn't have given him any ideas.

"You're right. I can do much better than the 'silent treatment'." What? Was he speaking in French? He proceeded to chat cheerfully in French, much to her annoyance. Although she had lived there when she was a child, her knowledge of the language was only enough to get by. She couldn't begin to decipher what he was saying at the speed of which he was speaking. She couldn't even tell where one word began and another ended.

Her shoulders slumped, and she sighed in defeat. "All right, you win." He smiled patronizingly down at her. "That was too easy for you, wasn't it." He nodded. "Thought so."

* * *

Maria and the Longacre's stood around the piano at which Erik was playing. It was a different song from last time, but equally sad, enchanting, and complex. She was mesmerized once again by the dexterity with which his fingers flew over the keyboard, for they seemed to never pause as they hit one key and moved on to the next.

It took his audience a few moments to realize that he had stopped playing. They had been too lost in their thoughts and the melody. Maria noticed that Alisha was crying slightly. Even Alex seemed moved. Erik turned around on the bench to face them.  
"That was..." The music director seemed to be at a loss for words, something that Maria had never been witness to. "Impressive." And incredible, mournful, magical. She could come up with a whole host of adjectives to describe his playing, much like she could to describe his voice.

"I wish that you would play in the chapel on the organ sometime. Can you play the organ?" Erik nodded his head. He could play the organ? Really? Of course. Was he trying to make her feel bad about how little she had ever played an instrument? Probably not.

"Wonderful!" The Longacres stood. "I will go tell Paul!" They left out the basement door.

"Who's Paul?" Maria kept forgetting that he didn't know anyone around here.

"Paul Keis is our organist. He's the fellow that plays accompaniment in chapel and for Alex. A very nice old man. Unfortunately, he is old, and is probably going to be retiring soon." He seemed satisfied by her explanation, and from there it appeared to her that he became lost in thought.

"I'm going to go out and continue to greet people." He stood. "You don't need to come if you don't want to." She felt like she needed to add that in there. His portion of the work was done for the day.

"I might as well make myself useful," was his response, and together they went back out into the blinding light.


	15. Chapter 15

Yup. Next 'chapter'. Still don't own POTO, wish I did. Comments, reviews, etc are appreciated.

* * *

She woke up when she heard Erik's door close, and although she couldn't hear his footsteps, she knew that he would be heading for the new student/teacher get to know people meeting. Maria couldn't imagine him speaking to anyone. More than likely, he would probably just stand on the far side of his group trying to pretend that he wasn't there. She had a feeling he would be good at that. She hoped that he would eventually realize that it is perfectly fine to talk to people. They won't run away from him. It was kinda crazy how shy he seemed. It was like he expected people to scream in terror and flee crying away from him. She found that sad, for he seemed like a nice enough person. It forced her to wonder why he felt like that. Perhaps people had fled from him, but what for? She had been given no reason to do so, and she highly doubted that she would be given one, but what did she know about him?

Isse considered this for a few moments. She knew that he was from Paris, France, that French is his first language, that he never had seen an Ipad before coming here, that he wears a mask, can play piano, is an exceptional pick-pocket (or thief, depending on how she wanted to think about it), and that, according to him, he was disfigured. But she didn't know anything substantial about his past. Sure, she could make guesses, but very simply, she wouldn't know which ones are just that, guesses. She frowned, her curiosity piqued. Perhaps there was something in his room..? No. She couldn't go in there. It was his space, and she would respect that.

Maria stood and began walking laps around her bedroom. Part of her was firmly set on not going into his room, but the other half, not so much. Would a quick peek really hurt anything? Well, obviously if he caught her. She froze her laps. But, he would be out until at least noon, and it was only 9:30 now, which meant that the meeting would have just started. Surely he would never know. Especially if he didn't touch anything.

With her mind made up, she got ready for the day and approached the door to his room. Not needing to be slow (slow would actually hinder her time), she grabbed the handle and twisted, half hoping that he would have locked the door. Unfortunately, or perhaps it was fortunate, he hadn't, and the handle twisted with ease. The door slid silently open, and Maria took a good look into his room.

It hadn't changed much since she had last been in here a week ago. In fact, the only things to apply that it was even being used was that the bed was unmade, and the desk had various things scattered over it. Maria stepped inside, wincing when the door clicked loudly behind her, but knowing it wouldn't matter. Quickly, she walked over to the messy desk. For a man that seemed to keep everything else in his space immaculate, the disorder and chaos of the desk surprised her, and she wondered how he had even had the time to make such a disaster out of it. On the desk, the folder she had given him on the first day was lying without it's contents, which she could see strewn over about half the space. His Ipad was on the opposite side, tucked into a far corner, and she wondered whether he knew how to charge. There were pens thrown all over the place, and, of all things, some blank sheet music with a few hastily scribbled notes on it. Well, at least she assumed the handwriting was hasty, for she couldn't even decipher what the ink notes were trying to represent on the ledger lines. Probably only something Erik could.

She hesitated momentarily before opening the top desk drawer. If she was going to rummage through his stuff, she might as well be thorough about it. The drawers were organized just as neatly as the rest of his room was. The one she happened to open had papers of various types in it. Maria moved onto the next drawer and the drawer below it. Finally, she reached the last one, which was (if this desk was the same as the one in her room) going to be the deepest. And in deed it was. Deep enough that Erik had seen fit to put books in it. He should really get a bookcase. Absently, she looked through his collection of books. It seemed to her that the only time of book he owned were scientifical, and she wondered how he could stand to read this stuff. It seemed horribly dry. Maria closed the drawer and stepped back, disappointed that she hadn't seen anything to give her more insight to his past. She took one last glance over the desk, making sure that she hadn't disturbed anything, and walked out of the room.

Isse checked her watch. She still had over an hour until the earliest time he would get back, and she considered what to do next. She could go out and join him, except when she had done the meeting thing a few years ago, even she had found it terribly boring. She could go and run around outside on the track, but now that she remembered it, they had just built a new and taken out the one that used to be right in front of the dorm, replacing it with a soccer field. She could kick a ball around, but the ball that she had was flat. Horribly flat. Maria sighed, giving up. Something inside then. Perhaps she could look over one of great (and a lot of greats) uncle Philippe's stories. He had been an writer when he was alive, and had taken it upon himself to write down all of the old family's stories that he could remember. That was quite a feat, given what she remembered of the family's history, which, needless to say, was very little. the de Chagny smiled. Perhaps re-reading some of the stories would be interesting. If nothing else, it would be quite time consuming.

* * *

When Erik at last returned (at least an hour past her original estimate) he found Maria happily curled up with a blanket, iced tea, and the old book Philippe had written in. Her family always seemed more real, tangible, when she held the old thing. Possibly because he hadn't done the writing with a typewriter, but instead had written it out by hand. When Erik did finally enter, Maria didn't look up, and instead continued reading, thoroughly engrossed in the story of how Christine had risen to fame at the Opera Populaire and how Raoul saved her life, or rather, she saved Raoul's life. Erik came around to read over her shoulder.

"'Christine, at this point, saw that there was no way for the Opera Ghost to lose. Her choice either way, would give the Phantom a victory. Either he would get to strangle Raoul (which no doubtably he was longing to do at that point), or he would keep Christine to stay with him as his 'living bride' (which I assume that he would have desired even more than killing my brother). '" Erik jokingly read aloud in French, as that was the language it was written in. "You can read this in French, but you cannot speak it?" She could tell he was shaking his head at her. He continued reading, "'Yet Christine knew his weakness. The Phantom had never been loved. Not even by his mother. He had never even received a kiss, as Christine later told me. A kiss. Such a simple thing to have been denied, but something that clearly held meaning to the supposedly heartless Opera Ghost.'"

Erik's voice weakened slightly, but he read on. "'And with this knowledge, Christine made her choice. It was not my dear brother that she chose, but the Opera Ghost, with his eyes full of misery and words cold as daggers. Through her tears, young Christine gave him the first act of affection he had ever known; a kiss.'" Maria looked up towards Erik, who appeared unsettled. "'Raoul could not understand how she could do such a thing! To him, the poor Phantom was quite a monster. Personally, I pitied the man that lives beneath the opera house. How such a kiss could move him to releasing his love, his obsession (I am quite sure that he was obsessed with the girl)! Yet it did. Through his tears of shock and shame (he had just returned to his senses, as he is and was prone to fits of madness), he made Christine and Raoul leave. The poor man forced them to get out of his house before the mob found them down in his underground house.'"

It appeared to Maria that Erik was choking up slightly. "'But before Christine would leave her Angel of Music forever, she realized that his ring was still upon her finger. When she came running back to him, he made her promise to return it to him as soon as he died, for he would get Antoniette Giry to submit a three word sentence to the newspaper. And then he truly made the pair evacuate his home on the skiff that the Phantom had originally brought Christine to his abode on. They arrived back to the surface with only minor injuries (for as I mentioned earlier, Raoul had first fallen into the Phantom's torture chamber, and later had been caught by his punjab lasso). Christine suffered no injuries save for a tormented heart. Truly I believe that she actually did love that Opera Ghost. And even now, I believe that she has a place in her heart for him. I would conclude by saying that no-one knows what happened to the wretched Phantom, but unfortunately we do know what has become of him. 'Erik is dead.'"

Destler's voice choked off suddenly, and Maria met his eyes. They seemed to be watery, as though he was holding back tears. Indeed, it was a sad story, but she had never gotten worked up over it. Tentatively, she reached up and touched his shoulder.

"You alright?" She was, honest to goodness, concerned for him. He seemed like too strong a man to be getting tear-eyed over a story.

He nodded his head and gave a wan smile to her. "I am fine." Yeah, sure you are. "It just got me thinking, that is all."

"Might I ask what it got you thinking about?" She would be fine if he didn't answer that.

"I... I just feel a sort of connection to the Opera Ghost. I do not know why. In some strange sort of way, I feel like I know him."

"You have sympathy for him?"

"No. I do not have sympathy for him. I have empathy with him." He has empathy for the Phantom of the Opera? Unless this man had lived a cruddy life before coming here, that was highly unlikely. Earlier, Philippe had written about the Phantom's childhood, which had shaped him to be the way he was. It wasn't pretty. Perhaps he had loved someone, only to have them choose another person over them. That must be it.

He changed the subject. "Who was this written by?" A fair enough question.

"My great, and a lot of greats, uncle Philippe. He recorded this when he was still alive, probably about a month after the actual events happened."

"He is dead then?"

Maria laughed slightly. "He died 100 years ago; he was born in 1864." She could read the surprise written on his face. "Weird, right? It certainly does feel like he could have just written this..."

"I think I am going to go down to my room now. I need to lay out a course of study for this year." Fair enough.

"See you 'round, Erik." Maria called after him as he went down the stairs. If he heard her, he didn't respond.

Maria flipped back to the middle of the chapter, to when Christine first saw the Phantom. She read through it. And again. She genuinely couldn't believe what she was reading. 'The Opera Ghost, as Christine described him to me, was apparently quite attractive on the left side of his face. But on the right, he wore a mask. The girl further proceeded to tell me every single detail she could recall about the visible side of his face. His skin was exceedingly pale (which I assume is from the fact that he lives underground). He had a defined jawline and cheekbones, but they were only prominent enough to be interesting. His eyes, or at least the one that she could see, was deep set, which further added to his imposing aura. She could only tell the color when they were in the dark of the tunnels, for they glowed a fiery golden-yellow (I attribute the 'glowing' to be light reflecting off of his eyes, much like it would off of a cats).' Maria stopped reading and laughed. It was as though Philippe had taken her housemate and described him! In fact, if this Phantom character had been real (which she was not sure of) then she would go so far as to say that Erik and... Erik (they even shared the same name!) could be related. She laughed harder and wondered if someone had put something in her drink. Wisely, Maria decided to put the old book down and to rest. Imagine what Erik would think if he knew what she was thinking!


	16. Chapter 16

I apologize that this chapter is reasonably short. I also apologize that I might not be able to update as often as I regularly do for the next two weeks or so; I'm going to a place with rather patchy internet connection at best. So, enjoy!

* * *

Erik, in fact, was thinking along the same thoughts as Maria was a floor above him. He wasn't thinking about looks though. He was considering the empathy that he held with the character. He had most certainly felt empathy before (although he couldn't remember it), but this was something else. It was as though he knew how the character was going to react, before he had even read it. Sure, there were plenty of good books that could do that to someone, but... that wouldn't have been the same. Not only did he know what the character was going to do, but he could practically imagine what happened after the Vicomte and Christine left. In fact, it was rather incredible, given that he could not remember anything prior to coming here, save for those three... names.

Raoul. That was one of the names! Raoul de -. The Vicomte Raoul de - none the less! (For had he not just referred to the fellow as Vicomte in his head?) His brother wrote that story! Had Maria called the man Philippe? That would certainly make the writer Comte Philippe de -. Would that not also make that Raoul person related to Maria as a grandfather of sorts? Most likely, from what he could gather. Erik frowned. Wouldn't that mean that Maria also had another last name besides Isse? Maria Isse de -. He would have to ask her about that next time he talked to her. In fact...

Erik was back up the stairs moments later, where he found Maria still lying on the couch, smiling about something. "Maria!" He barked, making the women jump. "You have another last name besides Isse. What is it?"

"Sheesh Erik! No need to shout. And yes, I do. It's de Chagny, but I never use it."

"Then that makes the Raoul person you great grandfather, correct?"

"Yes." Maria drew the word out slightly. "Where are you going with this?"

"Nowhere. Thank you!" He flew back down the stairs. So his housemate was Maria Isse de Chagny. It was an impressive sounding name, he had to admit. Therefore, Raoul was Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. Erik smiled, for now he was able to complete at least one name. That left two. Javert and Daae. He considered what he felt when thinking the names. Unfortunately, absolutely nothing. If nothing else, he could now sense something about Raoul. With his name came a poignant melancholy, topped off neatly with something else. Perhaps anger? If so, than it was certainly a rather fierce anger. Perhaps it was the anger that the Opera Ghost had felt? That would give at least some form of explanation as to why he could empathize with the character so well. Yet that still didn't make sense, and really only brought up more questions than answers. He wasn't even sure if it answered anything. He frowned, considering that for a moment. No, his name definitely did not answer any questions. Why does he feel like he knows that particular de Chagny? If what Maria had said was true, then the man should have been born around 1870. It was entirely possible that he had survived until the early 21st century, but that was highly improbable. He charged back up the stairs.

"Maria!" She jumped once more, and Erik would have enjoyed startling her, but he was too concentrated. "When did Raoul die?"

"Seriously! Stop startling me like that! And he died..." She paused a moment to think. "1940. I think. Right around then, but I feel like I'm high a few years."

"Thanks!" He barreled back down the stairs, and had he stayed a moment longer he would have noticed Maria shaking her head at him, wondering why he was inquiring about such boring, old matters like the years.

But, he hadn't. Instead, he was even more puzzled. 1940 or so. About seventy years for his lifespan. A good amount of time, especially considering the time period. But how could he have had any knowledge of his name before coming here? It seemed to him that the de Chagny stories were primarily kept to themselves. He puzzled over this for the next few hours, until Maria knocked on his door.

"It's time for dinner." Her voice was muffled through the door. "I'm heading there now, if you would like to come. And since I know that you don't want to," That was the truth, "I've already told Maddox and the crew that you will be joining us." Good idea. He recognized if he didn't go, the 'crew's' (as she called them) opinions about him would most likely go down. Besides, he really did need to form some decent acquaintances if he was to survive at this school.

He opened the door slowly, making sure that she was out of the way when he did. "We are going now?" She nodded her head at him. "Okay. Let's go then." If she thought that he agreed to easily, than he hoped that she would blame it on distraction, for which it was.


	17. Chapter 17

Internet! Yay! Sorry this chapter and the next took so long to post. No internet... :( Anyway, here they are

* * *

Dinner went considerably smoother this time over the last, if only because Ricard had decided to avoid their table, although Maria could hear him gossiping with other teachers about her housemate. She couldn't catch the words, but she bristled anyway. Her eyes flicked towards Erik, who was sitting on her right, and she marveled at how he didn't even seem to be aware of Monceux or the talking going on behind his back. She looked closer. In fact, he didn't even seem to be aware of anything. His eyes had taken on a lost-in-thought look, and his entire posture seemed completely relaxed.

Maria shoved him gently, and his eyes immediately focused on her. "Having a nice dream?" Her lips turned up slightly at his obvious puzzlement.

"I was not dreaming. I was thinking." Very matter of fact. Like there was much of a difference between the two at this hour (seven o'clock.)

"What about?"

"Nothing of importance."

Sure. "Right." She looked him dead in the eye and gave him an I-know-everything look. "Were you thinking about that old story?"

"No." Too fast, a lie, without doubt. She looked at him harder. "Well, kind of." Nearly there. "Maybe." Getting closer. "Yes." Knew it. Her eyes rolled at him.

"Why are you still thinking about that old story. It's just an old tale. That's it. The characters probably aren't even real. I mean, a man that lives under an opera house because he's disfigured? Seriously?" It looked as though he was blushing. "If that's not strange enough, he falls in love with some girl who also happens to be in love with my grandfather. How cliche is that?" He was definitely blushing, but she continued anyway. "I mean, love triangle to the extreme much! You've got the pretty girl, the hot guy, and this crazy psycho dude." Maria stopped. Blushing and he don't get along.

"You are right." Of course she was. "But," What was he gonna 'but' about it? "It is an interesting enough idea. And there must be some grain of truth beneath it. From what I read, your uncle does not seem like he would write something like this without an idea."

"What do you know about my family?" Neither the tone, nor the question, came out rude. A shrug was his only response. She nodded her head. He knew nothing about her family. But then again, did even she know about the history? Sure, her real grandfather or whatever had told her stories and recipes, yet how was she supposed to know if the stories weren't tall-tales. Her grin turned down. How was she to know that Erik wasn't right? After all, all tall-tales are based off of something.

"-and History of Art and Music." What? Something about HAM. Had Erik just spoken?

"Your teaching both of them? That is going to be quite a walk between buildings up and down the hill." He was teaching HAM too? She though he was only teaching Italian...

"Is it? I do not know which buildings I am in for either." Had she forgotten to show him where the Center for the Arts building was? Oh, right. She had never given him a tour.

"Well, for HAM, you'll probably be in the CFTA. For Italian, if I was to guess, I'd say either the bottom or the third floor of the academic building. Not the second floor. That's reserved strictly for math and English." He nodded his head like the layout of the school made perfect sense. After a while, it did, but for the first week, no way.

"Where is the CFTA?"  
"There's a tour tomorrow for new faculty and students. It should take you every on campus. If you are really curious though, the CFTA is by the pond, which you probably haven't seen yet, which is rather odd because the village that you live in is named after it." Right. She hadn't even shown him Macire pond. Huh. She could have sworn that she had shown him this stuff. Whatever. He would figure this all out by tomorrow.

* * *

They arrived back at their house a few minutes later, where Erik promptly proceeded to go downstairs, probably to his room. Maria sighed. It would be nice if he would stay up and talk instead of disappearing as soon as they got back from anywhere. How was she supposed to get to know the guy if he was pretending to be a ghost!? She plopped onto the couch and grabbed her ipad off of the bookshelf. She engrossed herself in sending emails out to all of her students.

The couch cushions shifted, and she looked up to see that her housemate was at the other end. She hadn't even heard him come up the stairs.

"What is an email?" He said after a few moments. Only then did she notice that he had his ipad with him.

"What?"

"What is an email?

"An email?" Was he asking about emails? Did he not know what they were?

"Yes! An email! What is it!" He seemed rather exasperated with her. Apparently, he really did not know what an email is.

"You've never heard of email before? Seriously? I though you lived in Paris for a while. Do they not have internet or something?"

"What is internet?" She looked at him with wide eyes.

"You don't know what internet is?"

"Correct. Or email. Or itunes, or any of these terms!"

"You... don't know... what... internet is." Her mouth at this point was hanging open. Had this man lived in a hole his entire life or something? "Umm... where have you been for the past fifteenish years?"

"Clearly, not here. Now what is this internet, and tell me what email is!" He hesitated a moment. "Please?"

Maria had a feeling that this would be an interesting night.


	18. Chapter 18

"You... don't know... what... internet is?" Well, clearly! He would not bother asking if he did.  
"Correct. Or email. Or itunes, or any of these terms!" He was getting annoyed with her. How many times did he have to ask something for the question to register?! His opinion of Isse was going down by the second.

Her mouth was hanging open in shock. Was it really that surprising that he did not know what a few things were? "You... don't know... what... internet is. Umm... where have you been for the past fifteenish years?"

"Clearly, not here. Now what is this internet," his voice became more forceful, "and tell me what email is!" Stubborn woman. Did he have to say 'please' to get her to do such a simple thing? It was worth a try. "Please?" It came out seeming more like a beg than he would have wanted it to. Her eyes became both amused and confused by his lack of knowledge. Was this something that every person was expected to know? She was certainly acting like it was.

Her bemusement carried in her voice. "Internet... how do I explain this?" Fine question, but if she doesn't he'll have to look it up in an encyclopedia or something. Maybe the ipad thing could tell him? "Ah. Internet is kind of like a web. It's nickname is, in fact, the World Wide Web." How interesting. He still had no clue what it was. "Erm, it's kinda like a... um... giant invisible storage area for documents."

"A giant invisible storage area for documents..." What..?

"Yeah! Some person makes a document with a code of sorts, and they save it on the internet."

"A person makes a code and saves it to this giant invisible storage area?" Sure. Why not. Why not he be able to fly too.

"Yeah. The code/document thing is called a webpage, or a page, or a website. It can have text, pictures, animations, games, videos and links. The programmer, the person who wrote the code, can have really whatever they want on their website, so long as it can be saved to a computer or tablet."

Computer? Tablet? Link? What?

"Uhh, you do know what a computer is, right?" No. He shook his head. "Wow. Okay then. Come with me." She stood and went down the stairs. He followed. She continued past their bedrooms and down to the basement, where she lead him into her office area. She pointed to a thin, grey device sitting on her desk. It looked similar, in a way, to the ipad.

"This is a computer. Well, really it's a laptop, but that doesn't matter right now. Come around to this side." He walked around until he was able to the screen. She touched something on the typewriter thing, and an arrow moved on the screen. She fiddled with it until the arrow was hovering over a button of sorts, where she proceeded to hit a physical button. The screen changed to something with a white background, two greyish rectangles on the screen, and the word 'GOOGLE' spelled out loudly across the computer.

"The arrow is what is called the cursor. It is controlled by a mouse, or in this case, a mouse pad, which is the thing my finger is on. The little picture things you saw a second ago," she moved the mouse and clicked a button so that she was back on the original screen, "are links to various applications on the computer. The one I clicked brought us to the internet."

"The internet is called 'Google'?" He must have pronounced it oddly, for she gave him an odd look.

"No. It's google, by the way, not goglee. Google is just an internet browser. It's like a ship. Your the captain, but you need your ship to go places. Make sense?" It was starting to, slightly. "Good. Through google," she brought the google screen back up, "You type on the keyboard," the typewriter is called a keyboard. Good to know. She typed something in one of the grey boxes. Banana. "And hit this button," she tapped a button that said 'enter', "and your search result will come up on the next page." Indeed, plenty of things popped up. There was some text, which partially was in blue, and partially was in black, and there were pictures of said fruit. "The things in blue text are links. If you click on one, they bring you to another page. Like so." She tapped one of the links, and it changed the screen so it had a picture of a banana on it and other text beneath the fruit. That actually made some sense. "Now you try. Search for something, anything, and it should find something.

Maria stepped back to give him room. He moved close enough to be able to touch what she had termed the mousepad. Tentatively, he moved his finger around on it, watching the screen to see that his motions were moving the cursor. This was starting to be cool. When had they invented this? He moved it over the grey rectangle on the upper part of the screen, where he pressed down on a button, causing the text currently in the box to become highlighted. His fingers moved over the letters of the keyboard. It had been ages since he had last typed. Or, at least he thought it had been. Slowly, very slowly, his fingers began moving across the letters. They were much too thin and responded to quickly to even seem to be a descendent of the typewriter.

"What is email?" Maria looked at him. "You catch on fast. Didn't even stay on one word searches. Impressive." Was she being sarcastic with him? He ignored her and hit the enter button. Indeed, the screen changed just as it did for her, and indeed, links and images came up. He moved the cursor over the first link and tapped the button on the bottom left of the mousepad. The link brought him to a page different than the last one. His question lay at the top, and what he assumed was the answer was towards the bottom middle. "To scroll down, put two fingers on the mouse pad and move them together up or down, or press the up and down arrows. Either way works just fine." He did as she recommended and seemed to him to move the screen down. This was getting fun. A small smile crept across his face.

"I'm going to leave you and the computer be. Enjoy yourself. Just... don't break it please. They're expensive." She left, leaving her computer in his command. Yes, this would be decidedly fun.


	19. Chapter 19

I literally finished this chapter seconds ago. Again, I apologize that I haven't been able to update as often as usual recently. That should be changing soonish. Anyway, I don't own POTO/related characters. Also, review are REALLY appreciated!

* * *

The next morning she woke once more to Erik's door closing. She wondered to herself when and if he would remember that no matter how many times he left it unattended, it would still slam. She rolled over and hugged a pillow. Whatever. It was, after all, only six o'clock. Dreamily, her eyes squeezed shut once more and she began to doze.

Six o'clock. Six am? That wouldn't make sense unless her roommate was suddenly a morning bird. The new person tour started at ten. Was it nine something then? Without opening her eyes, Maria snaked a hand towards where she knew her watch would be on the table next to her bed. She felt around until she found it, and only then did she open an eye. Indeed. It was 9:50. With a groan, she sat up and put her feet on the ground.

As soon as she was dressed and ready for the day, she grabbed a pen out of her room and a notebook and went up the stairs to the couch. It was as good a time as any to plan out her classes for the next term. It was eleven before she realized that she had not had anything to eat yet that day, and it was only by 11:30 that she acted upon that. She did not expect Erik back until three, as the tour still had another half hour to go, then they had lunch, then a tech seminar for the Ipads, and finally new teachers stayed after with their department heads to get a layout of what they need to teach throughout the year. For her housemate that would be... what? With HAM and Italian... Well, for HAM he would probably need to cover from the Romanesque to Modern periods, so from 500 ad to now, while for Italian he would probably only need to do the basics. Get a good vocabulary for next year and such. Would he need to teach Italian 1 and 2 next year then? He was, after all, the only person hired right now for the language. Teaching both sections wasn't unheard of though. It was quite common, actually. Take the classical languages, for example. The Latin 1 Honors teacher was also doing Latin 2 Greek 1, and the other Latin 2 teacher was teaching Latin 3 Honors as well. But at least for the classics, there was more than one teacher.

She snagged a grapefruit from the fruit bowl and proceeded to dissect it properly with a knife and a spoon, taking a few moments when she was done to drink the juice. Although it was not a very large breakfast, it was one of her favorite ways to start the day, if she could remember where she put the grapefruit spoons.

Contented and full, she wondered how she would spend the day. She had another seven hours before she needed to be somewhere, and that wasn't required. What were her options? Continue planning her classes for the next year? Already did that. Go jog around outside? Not a bad option, but not what she wanted to do. Maybe plan soccer games for the season? It was certainly something that she needed to do. Practice would start tomorrow, and the first game, in theory should be about a week later. Maybe she could call one of the others schools in the state, see if they were willing to play them.

Satisfied that she knew what she would be doing, she grabbed her phone and looked up the number of another private school. Confident that she knew the number to the sports facility, she dialed and hit the extension for soccer. She got an operator and asked to be connected to the JV girls soccer coach. The coach picked up a few seconds later, and Maria explained that she was the coach of the team at Arxs, and that they were looking for someone to play within the next two weeks. Cheerfully, the other coach agreed to a match on Wednesday after school, there, at two. Maria hung up and emailed the sports director to let them know that she needed a bus to Philadelphia. She then proceeded to look at the sports calendar to see where some other teams would be heading during the Fall season. She decided to see if she could get a match or two against those schools's teams as well. She called four, but only one of them played out. For the better, she supposed. She did need to see how good her team would be this year after all.

Speaking of, the first practice would be tomorrow, and she had no co-coach. Certainly, it was plenty possible to coach with only one person, but it was more interesting if there was more than one. Her experience last year was that they coaches were able to teach different skills, which proved for a reasonable well rounded team. Mind you, they were still JV (they had no thirds), so they still were horrible, but it was fun. She didn't need another coach though. But still, she would prefer someone. Whatever. If someone turned up, great. If not, it didn't matter.

Maria groaned aloud when she looked at the clock. It was only 1:15, and she had nothing to do. Maybe she could drop in on the tech seminar..? No. She probably knew how to operate the ipad better than the IT guys did. They were not known for their computer skills. The school really should hire some new, younger, staff for that. The people that had grown up with the technology, not the current group. Besides the fact, if a student actually did decide to go to them for help, they were slow. Painfully slow. She had made the mistake of asking them for help once. A week later they had figured out the problem and were trying to fix it. By that time she had already solved the problem and was helping others in the waiting line solve their own problems that tech aid couldn't figure out. It was not fun. Luckily for the students, there were at least two computer genius type people among them. Isse smiled as she recalled how they had paired up and hacked the school system. They had even gotten into the central database, and had intercepted some pretty interesting emails describing new headmaster options. Needless to say that the alumni board wasn't terribly happy, but they hadn't been able to catch the two students, as they had somehow made their devices essentially untraceable. Maria didn't really understand how they did that herself, but it was amusing. A violation of privacy, yes, but it was rather interesting having the entire school know about the new headmaster and the alumni's opinions of him before the man even knew that he had the job himself.

She would need to visit the pair eventually to see if she could get one of them to fix her computer- it wouldn't go into Microsoft word, no matter how many times she tried. Maybe she could bring Erik along. They could teach him a thing or two about technology in general. He certainly seemed as though he could use it.


	20. Chapter 20

Points to anyone who can translate the Latin in this without relying heavily on a translating program. Really though, if you can translate, pm it to me or post it on here.

* * *

Would this ever end?! The entire day had been akin to a torture session, what with walking over the entire campus, participating (ugh) in stupid 'get-to-know' activities, and nothing interesting happening. The students looked like they were barely holding back their general annoyance at having to do this, and even the other teacher in his group appeared to be sleep walking. If anyone was looking at him, they probably would have seen a tall man in a half mask getting ready to punch someone. They would have held the person, too, so long as they knew it wasn't them who he was going to hit.

Luckily for them, there was no one within easy access for him to slug, nor was there anyone that particularly deserved it. And luckily, they were nearly done with the students, who were, by that point, in the auditorium of the CFTA receiving instruction on how to access the school website, upload documents to it, how to print, and how to see their grades. Erik supposed that he probably shouldn't be tuning out whatever the person up on the stage was saying, but it was not like he could not ask Maria anything he needed to know once he got back. Indeed, it seemed to him that she knew more than whoever created the slideshow being projected upon the curtain.

The curtain was much more interesting than the projection. It was a very nice curtain, made of good looking red fabric. Undoubtably, there was at least one more curtain behind the main one. It would be set a few feet back to provide a blank backdrop for close-to-the-front acts. That one would be drawn to reveal the entire stage, which, given the size of the building he had seen from the outside, would go at-least another twenty five feet back. The theatre had nice lights, too, he noticed. Nothing like the gas lights that he felt he recognized. Much like with the keyboard and the typewriter, they appeared much too sleek to be a close relative of the old ones. They probably displayed the stage actors in a very nice way. And the sound of this room was better than most theaters he had been to. He didn't know how he knew that, he just did. There were a few problems that he could find with the overall set up, but he figured that if he could meet the theatre department director he could speak to him about them. The few problems were of no great consequence though.

He snapped back to attention when students stood and began filing out of the auditorium. He would have gladly followed them and have been done with all the meetings except he knew that it was required of him to stay after and meet his department heads. Indeed, he at last rose to his feet and began his hunt around the auditorium for the either the history department head or the modern languages fellow. He came across the head history person first.  
She looked him up and down, seeming to not be very impressed by what she saw.

"You must be Erik Destler. You are teaching HAM this year. Unfortunately, we do not know whether you actually are able to teach the subject. Here is a test for you to fill out right now." She shoved a couple pages of paper at him and a pen. "You have three minutes. Begin."

That was not what he was expecting at all, and it took him a few seconds to even open the packet. The lady stared over his shoulder as he wrote in the answers in his not-so-neat scribble that he called script. Probably, she was trying to read what he wrote as soon as he put his pen to the paper.

"One minute left." Such a drone like voice! She really ought to get some spark of personality in her. "Thirty seconds." He still had an entire page, which he flipped to. When he saw it, he smiled. Identifying music and writing in the correct notes and time signatures. What fun! He finished that page with seconds to spare, and if the lady was impressed that he did it so fast, she did not say anything.

"Time is up." She tore the papers from his grasp. "Tell me what analogous colors are."

That did not sound like a question to Erik, but he answered anyway. "Analogous colors are hues that are next to each other on the color wheel. In a painting they give a sense of harmony."

The woman nodded her head sharply. "Who was the architect of the Farnese Palace?"

The Farnese Palace... "It actually had two; A man called Sangallo, and Michelangelo. It was constructed during the Renaissance period in Rome, Italy."

"Very well." The lady nodded sharply once more. "Over the course of the year, you must teach the basics of art, architecture, sculpture, and music. You must cover some art from each period, and you must make your students be able to identify which characteristics go to each period." She began walking away. "Your classroom is number 103, and I expect you to be there for C and D periods. Good day, mr. Destler."

Erik looked at her as she walked away. He was not expecting that, but then again, he was not sure what he was expecting. Probably someone less... strict sounding.

"She can be quite odd at times, can't she?" Erik whirled as someone began speaking to him. "I'm Xavier, by the way." He stuck out his hand when he was within polite speaking distance. Erik dutifully shook it. "I'm representing the modern languages department right now; our head couldn't make it- he caught a rather nasty cold." Xavier looked him up and down. "Judging by appearances, you must be the Italian teaching French guy. Nice to meet you!" He didn't quite know what to make of this man who only gave his first name. His manner of speaking completely contrasted the lady he had just met.

"I admit, Italian is not my best language, though I can speak it. I'm much better at Spanish, which is what I'm teaching right now. You must be pretty good at it to have been accepted to teach it; this school seems to only take the best that they can find for the languages." He paused a moment before continuing to take a breath, "There are rumors flying around that you can speak not just one, or two, or even five languages, but..." he paused yet another moment to think, "I think it's at twenty right now." Twenty languages? That was absurd! It was probably possible, but he couldn't even remember how he learned to speak English!

Xavier chuckled at what must have been a bewildered expression on his face. "Not that many then? I knew that rumor couldn't have been true. That brings up the question of how many you can speak. Hmm..." Xavier began looking at him as though he was appraising Erik. He cupped his hand around his chin and hmmed again. "I am going to guess... six." Six? "Yeah, that seems like a good number. Six. They would be French, English, Italian and... You look like you could speak Spanish and German... and maybe... Arabic. Do you mind saying hello in each one I listed?" The man stared at him expectantly.

"Bonjour, Hello, Salve, Hola, Gutentag, As salam alaykom." He decided to add Russian in there for good measure while Xavier was staring dumbstruck at him. "Zdravstvujtye." The man stared at him.

"Russian too? That's no fair. Next thing I know you'll be chatting to me in Latin or Greek." Erik took this opportunity to show off slightly.

"Lingua Latina dicere possum, sed meam verbam non prendere potest cogito." Xavier groaned and rolled his eyes at him.

"Great. We've got a classicist teaching modern languages. Yipadeedoda. Back to serious stuff, do you know what items in Italian you'll be teaching this year?" Erik shook his head slightly. "Okay then. I recommend that you cover a ton of vocab and how to use it. Oddly, I don't think the school asked the students to get any textbooks for your class, so you'll most likely be teaching on the white board only. That does give you freedom to teach whatever and however you want, so it might be enjoyable." Xavier glanced at the watch he was wearing and swore quietly. He began stepping quickly away. "Sorry to cut this short, but I have a meeting I needed to be at three minutes ago. G'bye, Destler! Enjoy your classes!" He turned and ran out the nearest door with Erik's eyes trailing him. What an energetic man!


	21. Chapter 21

So, no one that knows Latin here? :( Even with a translating program? Comments/reviews are still appreciated!

* * *

They came back from the dining hall together later that day, a few hours after Erik had gotten back from the tour/meeting. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't talked much about it, and only when Maria had pressed him did she find out that he had been utterly bored with the entire thing and hadn't paid much attention to it. He mentioned that he met a man named Xavier (Anderson?), and some rather blunt history department woman (whom Maria assumed to be Eliza Boven, another HAM teacher), but that was all she could get out of him.

Classes would be starting tomorrow, and she would still give the world to sit in on at least one of them. Maybe she would make him take a video of it... or wait! One of his two classrooms, if she recalled correctly, did have a camera in it- it used to be used for detention, but it was only switched on when the teacher left the room. Maybe she could turn it on before he started. Yes, she decided, she would go up with him and tell him what she was doing, whether he approved of it or not tomorrow morning.

The pair went their separate ways once they got back to their house, Maria to watch tv upstairs, and Erik something downstairs. She guessed that it would have something to do with the ipad. Oddly enough though, after a few minutes in on the show, she heard him playing the piano, and muted the tv. Now that she was not able to watch him play, she found herself analyzing the sound.

This piece was different than the two she had heard him play before. It seemed more... impatient and fast paced than the others. The composition was very subtly done, and had she not know that he did not need music, she would have demanded to see the score. It had quite a haunting melody too, which was an odd combination with the tempo of the piece, yet he made it work. Combined, the two factors made it sound rather desperate for something. Not for the future, she could tell that, but for something. It was like he was playing out the scene of a train-wreck, but was playing it backwards until before the collision, before the train even left the station. Hmm. The music stopped, and Maria lost where she was going with that thought.

Shrugging, she turned the volume back on on the tv and watched her show till the marathon was over at ten, when she proceeded to turn out any light that she could find and go to bed, wondering how the next day would turn out.

Erik was not out of his room before her this day, and she was not sure whether to be surprised or not. Deciding that this was not unusual, she finished dressing for the first school day of the year. She had chosen a pale purple dress that she found quite pretty and a pair of black flats. Black flats could be used for nearly everything. Except with navy. She wasn't sure why, but black and navy when they were two separate pieces of clothing did not work with each other. That rule was practically typed into the handbook.

She finished getting ready reasonably quickly, and grabbed a smallish bag with her ipad, a charger, pens, and a grade-book in it, not that she would be using the grade-book for grading that day. Isse proceeded upstairs with her bag and sat down at the table, thinking about how her day would go. Before she really got into it, someone tapped her shoulder, and she spun with speed.

Erik nearly looked surprised to her, and Maria smiled before looking at what he was wearing. Yet another thing she now knew about the man: he dresses up really well. He was wearing what essentially was a black suit with the blazer unbuttoned and a fun tie; normal male teacher garb at Arxs, but it looked natural on him. And he was quite (dare she think it) handsome in it. Suits and her housemate got along just fine.

"Are we ready to go?" She managed to stutter out at last. He seemed rather amused by her reaction to him, and he nodded his head slightly. She stood and walked out the door with him. Walking next to him along the path to the dining hall, she felt surprisingly underdressed. Although he was only wearing the required outfit, he really did put the other men they passed to shame.

"Do you mind if I go up to your classroom with you for a few seconds?" Maria asked him politely after breakfast as they were walking up the stairs. He looked at her from the corners of his eyes.

"You may come if you would like. I am curious as to why you want to though." Good! She would be able to flick on the video camera and make it stream to her ipad. Should she tell him why..? "I might change my mind should you not tell me." Well, that settled it. His class was not something she would miss out on.

"Erm, well, you see, there's this camera that's in your room. I really wanted to see your first class." She blushed slightly. It sounded so stalkerish now that it was aloud. He held the third floor door open for her, and she muttered her thanks.

"Let me make sure I have this straight. There is a camera in my classroom, and you desire to spy on me while I am in the middle of a class." That in a nutshell. He led her down the hall until he got to his classroom. He dug around in one of his pockets and frowned before looking at her sheepishly. "Before you can turn on your camera, I need to get in. Unfortunately, it seems that I have lost my key. Do you have a couple paper clips with you by any chance?" Paperclips? Probably. She dug around in her bag until she found two of different sizes, which she handed to him. He then untwisted them and shoved them in the lock of the door. It only took a few seconds before they heard a click and he handed them back to her.

"You know, I really am starting to think that before you came here, you were a thief. And a good one at that." That earned a small chuckle from him.

"Turn on your spy camera if you are going to. You need to be in your own classroom in a minute or two here, assuming that the bells are on time." As if on cue, the ten minute warning bell rang. "What do you know. They are." Maria stepped quickly towards the far corner of the room and pushed a button that turned the camera on. She then pulled out her ipad and synced it to the camera, so that later she could watch what happened in this room. Merrily, she turned back towards the door and tipped an imaginary hat at him. He appeared to have not even seen that she had done so, for he was writing quickly on the white board. Hmm. She had never noticed before, but he was left handed.


	22. Chapter 22

Sorry this took so long to get to you guys! On the bright side though, the patchy updates should be over for two weeks or so.  
Thank you Guesty for your review! Which reminds me to post the translation: "I am able to speak the Latin language, but I think you are not able to understand my words."  
Not quite sure whether I am satisfied with this chapter or not, but here it is anyway.

* * *

Maria left the room surprisingly fast. He had expected her to be at least another two or three minutes, but no. It was not terribly important though, whatever she had done. Something about a camera..? Erik's head twisted around slightly to stare at the lens of the camera. The only thing that showed it was recording was a very small blinking light, which was rather hard to notice. It seemed to him that Maria was expecting this class to be amusing. She was expecting amusement, and he was expecting tension.

When he turned back to the whiteboard to read what he wrote, the first student came in.

"Erm, is this mr. Destler's class?"

Erik turned around again. The poor girl was practically trembling. Then again, if he was honest with himself, so was he.

"Yes. This is my class. Have a seat wherever you would like..?" He trailed off, wondering if that was how to get a name out of the girl.

"Anna, sir." Sir?

"You do not need to call me sir, Anna." The child took a seat near the front corner of the room, probably trying to stay polite. If he had not been speaking to her right then, he guessed that she would have gone to the farthest back corner where no one would notice her.

"Yes," she paused, about to say sir again. "Mr. Destler." That was better. He was not used to it though. He would have preferred something else. He was not sure what, but mr. Destler seemed wrong to him somehow, even if it was what he was supposed to be called.

There came a timid knock on the door. Another lone student stepped in. He seemed much more confident than little Anna, whom he noticed was slipping towards the back of the room.

"Hi. You're mr. Destler, right?" Erik nodded his head. "Sweet. I'm Ian. 'Sup Anna?" These two must know each other from somewhere, perhaps they went to the same school before this. Ian went to the back and sat at the desk next to her. They began chatting easily with each other. The rest of the students decided to get to the door at the same time, and had Erik not have been watching, there probably would have been some arguing about who got to go in first.  
The second and last bell rang just as every one took their seats. In total, there were only eight students in this period. Some of them even seemed to be looking around for more. They probably came from much larger schools than this, where there were classes of over twenty. Which, all in all, was not unusual. As soon as the door swung shut, they looked up at him expectantly, nearly unnerving him.

"Erm. Good morning?" Oh lord. This was not going to be fun. They chorused good morning back at him obediently. "Do any of you know how to say good morning in Italian?" One student already looked bored with the class; he yawned loudly and widely and looked around before speaking.

"What's with the mask Destler?" Erik had a feeling that he would not like this student in the least. "C'mon. Spit it out. I want to know." It seemed that most of the other students were glaring at the one that spoke out. "Fine. If you won't tell me, then I'll find out for myself when I take it off." Take it off? Here? Not in this lifetime! The boy stood and began walking towards the front of the room.

"What is your name, boy?" He could not hold back some of the coldness that leaked into his voice. The teen put his hands on his hips like he was the most important thing in the world.

"Carl Reymond. And that is how you are to address me from now on, Desty." Really? Desty? That was worse than mr. Destler!

"You might want to rethink your thoughts, boy." He calmly folded his arms across his chest and looked down at Carl.

"It's not 'boy' Desty. It's Carl Reymond. And I am going to take your mask now." The boy lunged for him, and the rest of the class took a communal intake of breath. Yet he was ready for this, and calmly and quickly stepped to the side, causing Carl to crash head first into the desk. Surprisingly, his head did not make much of a thunk against it.

"Now, now, boy. Do you not know it is quite rude to try and tackle someone?" Erik gazed down at the boy sprawled out across the floor. Slowly he pushed himself to his knees, and then to his feet. He glared at Erik and made a halfhearted reach for the mask. Unfortunately for him, Destler stepped out of his reach once more. The boy stumbled forwards, thrown off balance.

"Are you ready to take your seat now boy, or would you rather go to the nurse after I write you a demerit?" Erik wasn't exactly sure how the whole demerit thing worked, but it probably sounded scary to the student.

Carl slunk out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and he turned to look at what remained of his class. Only seven. Their faces though... His lips turned up slightly in a half grin, and he chuckled for a second before realizing that they were probably rather scared of him now.

"Now that he's out of earshot, what is a demerit?" Their jaws dropped and eyes widened. He only had gotten a general idea of what they were (so he knew that they were bad), not an explanation. Someone in the back of the room started giggling. It seemed to be contagious, for within a few seconds all six others were laughing as well, shaking their seats.

A student he did not know the name of stopped chuckling for a few seconds to spit out something that sounded like 'Nice bluff, mr. Destler!' Quickly the enjoyment was resumed.

"I really am going to give the boy a demerit." Erik had every intention to, too. "Do any of you know how to write them?" They laughed a bit harder at his expense. He was not quite sure what to do.

"Aren't you a teacher?" Well, obviously. Otherwise he would not be here. "I thought the teachers here knew about this kind of stuff." Perhaps every other staff member did.

"I got here a bit later than everyone else." Well, he thought he did. "The day before new students started arriving, if you are curious." The student nodded her head as though that made perfect sense. She did not bother to ask why he arrived that late, nor did she feel particularly inclined to after what happened to that Reymond kid (whom she secretly would have loved to hit).

"A demerit is like a one way ticket to detention. Kind of. They are really bad for students to get. Sadly for us they can be assigned at the littlest of things; like the boys not wearing a belt with their outfit, or the girls's pants looking like denim." Of course. "To write them, I think you just send a note into the deans office stating who got it and why." The deans office? "You don't know what the deans office is, do you?" Erik shook his head slowly.

"I will find out later. Right now, I do think I am supposed to be teaching you Italian." They looked as though they had forgotten that little fact. "Would it be wise if we started with names and proceeded to greetings? Perhaps with some vocabulary in there somehow." Hmm, yes. That sounded good.

"Eh, mr. Destler?" He looked over at a larger teenager. "We only have half an hour left. Is that gonna be enough time?" Half an hour? Had the laughing really taken fifteen minutes? Well then.

"Half an hour will be plenty of time. Let us start with your name or whatever you would like to be called in this class," he paused for a second, "within reason."

"Well, I'm Malachi Thomas. No nickname." He looked towards the girl who tried to explain demerits.

"The name is Eunice Zhao."

They continued around the room, finally ending with Erik himself.

"Erik Destler, but I think I would be fine with nearly anything you called me, so long as it has no relation to Desty." They gave an appreciative chuckle. "And now, onto the Italian!" And so went the first class he ever taught.

Before Erik even realized it, the first two classes of the day were over, and he was joining the rush of the school in between classes to get down to the CFTA for his HAM classes. He ended up walking next to a blond girl that he knew he recognized. Indeed, it appeared that Anna from A period Italian was going down to the CFTA for a class. She did not seem to notice him, or even hear that there was someone next to her until they stepped into the late morning sun and his shadow was cast over hers.

"Oh! Hello mr. Destler! I didn't know you where there." The girl looked like she was beating herself up for not noticing him.

"It is fine, Anna. And really, I am fine if students do not add a mr in front of my name. You can call me Erik for all I care." She did not quite know what to make of that, but she seemed to accept it anyway.

"If you say so." They arrived at the CFTA with a few other students, which he held the door open for (as that was what he had seen everyone else doing at the school). As soon as they were all in, he followed them up the stairs and down a short hallway. He passed what seemed to be an art studio, a utility closet, and an orchestra practice room before he arrived at room 103. The bell rang just after he got in there, and luckily for them, all of his students were there before him.

There was a not-so-quiet murmuring in the room, and someone had found a very small piano hidden in a back corner and was providing... interesting... background music. He winced as the chords jammed together while being out of tune. Luckily, the person playing soon realized that he was in there when everybody stopped talking. They took a seat at a table next to the piano with two others.

"Say something when I call your name, please." Attendance- he had forgotten to do it in his first class of the day. "Anthony." The boy said something, and he moved on. "Dymir. Natasha. Reyna. Alex..." He went through a list of five others. This would be yet another small class. "Good. For those of you that do not know me, I am Erik Destler, your HAM teacher this year." This seemed to be going pretty well so far. At least no one had yet commented on the mask. After that first class, there was another person in B period who merely asked about it. Nothing like that boy's pathetic attempt to get it off, which he was grateful for.

"I guess that we are supposed to start on covering the basics of art and music, so if you are going to take notes, now is the time to do so." He watched as everybody either whipped out an ipad or a notebook and pen, and when he was sure that everyone had something to take their notes with, he began rattling off a list of art terms. Only the basics though, such as the elements of art. "I do apologize if this class may be primarily note taking. If any of you have ideas to make this fun, let me know." He paused for a few moments, waiting until they were done typing or writing. "And onto the basics of music." Music was something he knew much more about and was more interested in than art. The class must have noticed his slight smile.

"Are you a music person, mr. Destler?" The person who was playing the piano, Tony, if he recalled correctly, asked him. He shrugged.

"You could say that. And really, I do not need a mister in front of my name." The boy nodded his head.

"Do you play an instrument then?"  
"Mainly the piano or organ, but I can do others as well." Why did he just say the organ? It could not have been because of that daydream the other day, could it have been?

"You play the piano? Would you play something now for us?" Tony looked very eager, and indeed, the entire class perked up a bit.

"I-I-" He didn't get a chance to finish what he was saying before another person, Samantha, butted in.

"Please? Pretty please? Won't it help us with the music terms? Please?" She looked up at him with hope in her eyes.

He sighed, rolled his eyes, and sat at the mini piano. "I am not sure if it is big enough." A very true fact, given that it was only about half the size of the piano that someone had put in the stairwell on the way up to this floor.

"Doesn't matter. Just play. Please." Someone who he could not recognize by voice alone spoke up. He could hear their chairs screeching against the floor, and their footsteps growing louder as they all drew in around him and the mini piano.

He arched his fingers, and began to play a rather haunting tune, but the only song that he could think of that would fit on the piano. All other noises ceased to exist as he was brought into the song. To him, it sounded like the notes were supposed to be played sadly, and he complied, making some notes minor, others flat, and the melody as deep as the ocean. He finished on a questioning chord, leaving thoughts still hanging.

He turned around on the bench, only to see that at least one other class had squeezed into the room, as well as the History department head person he met the other day. She looked impressed. Did it really only take an easy piece of music to make her lose her strict demeanor? Erik fantasized at what he would be able to play on a three keyboard organ. Now that would be impressive.

The woman's heels clicked sharply on the hard floor as she walked out of the doorway. So it was not that easy to impress the lady then. Hmm. Why was he even bothering? He thought about that for a second or two before deciding that it was personal satisfaction that he could make her feel any emotion other than her constant drone. That would be quite a feat!

The crowd finally broke their silence with timid applause that grew stronger each moment. Although it may not be so easy to impress the History person, it was plenty easy to awe a bunch of school students. They barely heard the bell when it rang, and had it not been for someone walking into the classroom and sitting down, the group would have completely ignored it. Someone did check their phone for the time when the girl came in, and it was their shouted 'Oh shit-..aki mushrooms!' That made the crowd evacuate the room. Within seconds the place was cleared except for Anna, who had sat down earlier.

"Hello again mr-" He cut her off with a gentle glare, and she started over. "Hello again... umm... piano guy." He groaned slightly and she shrugged.

"You need to work on that."

"Yeah, I know."


	23. Chapter 23

This chapter is mainly fluff about lunch; I was hungry when I started it. Anyway, I don't own POTO, and comments will always be accepted with open arms!

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At long last... lunch time! Maria nearly shouted with glee. Lunch! Be it noisy or be it loud, she was gonna eat till the roof came down (teaching was very tiring)! She could imagine the food, glorious food. Albeit school food, but food nonetheless. It was gonna be pizza today too! The kitchen staff did need to make it good the first few days. Well, goodish. Palatable, at the least. Not even palatable. Edible. She hoped that it would be nothing like the food last year, what with the new head chef and all. Last year was horrible. Even the hungriest student after coming in from sports preferred to just grab an apple or a fruit rather than be forced to eat that so called meal. She had taken the year to improve her own cooking skills, not that she could say what she made had been much better than what they served. Except for her cakes. Her cakes were good.

She strode into the kitchen, grabbed a plate, put some pizza and a salad on it, and went to go find her table. She reached table 21, but not before noticing that Erik seemed to be looking for his own table. Luckily for him, the other table head was there and knew who to look for. He was beckoned over, and what appeared to be a one-sided conversation took place. Isse didn't pay much attention to it: the bell had just rung that allowed students to flock into the dining hall, and the noise level was crescendoing, making it impossible to talk at a normal volume, or to even think at a normal volume for that matter.

Everyone finally arrived at her table, and the second bell rang signaling that they could all sit down. The loud speaking was replaced with the screeching of chair legs against the floor. It was not a pleasant sound, and Maria pitied anyone with good hearing, herself included.

The headmaster stepped up to the podium on the raised area of the dining hall, and everyone that was speaking quieted down immediately. She could imagine exactly what he was going to say: it was the same every year. Welcome to Arxs, this is when announcements are held (at the end of lunch, mind you, not the beginning). Your student president this year is (fill in a name), this is such a great opportunity... blah blah blah. In all three years that she had been there, it had remained the same, and this year, as she found out while imagining what topic he was going to speak about next, proved no different. Eventually, polite applause ended the discussion, and waiters were sent up to get food. Because it was a lunch, it was not served buffet style. Instead, there was one person (the waiter) who went into the kitchen and brought back a tray of food for their half table. The food was then served by the table head, and no-one was allowed to start eating until everyone on their side had been served. These lunches were supposed to practice and improve dining etiquette, but nearly everyone stopped paying attention to them after the first month.

Quickly, Maria dished up a plate of pizza to anyone who desired and had the students pass the plates down the table until everyone on her side had one. A few students asked if they could go up as soon as a light above one of the doorways turned green. She nodded her consent agreeably. Many people either had a special lunch prepared for them due to allergies, or simply wanted something else that was being offered in the kitchen.

The beginning of the year was normally an awkward time for everyone, teachers included. You never knew who would be coming back for another year, or who had decided to leave. It was even worse when you were new. You needed to form bonds fast to be able to do virtually anything, and if you were returning, often you needed to reform your previously made connections before they became lost and you needed to start over again. Not that she knew from personal experience, but it was a well known fact, much like the navy and black clothing. Besides, everywhere in the world, the beginning of something was very awkward until you got to know what you were supposed to do. Luckily for her table, these students simply needed to reform their bonds; they had been juniors the previous year.

They finished their meal in relative peace and comfort compared to many other tables. They even started to clear their dishes before the student president had gone to the podium to say the real announcements for the day. By the time that he had risen to speak the announcements, her half of the table was cleared and spotless, where as the other tables that she could see where just starting to stack. Either she was efficient, or her group eats very fast. She figured it was the latter.

As it was last year, the student body president finished lunch fifteen minutes early, and as per last year, virtually everyone did not bother going to their next class early, instead taking the time to shed their blazers, sit down, and kick off their shoes for a few minutes. Maria wondered if they knew that they could be given a demerit for dress code violation because it was still the school day. She was going to ignore like just about all the other teachers. No point in ruining their confidence on the first day of school unless it was really bad. She did notice that a few teachers went over and gave them warnings, but whether they took heed of those or not was a different matter that she did not stay long enough to find out.

Instead, she decided to go to her own classroom early. After all, she had nothing better to do, save checkup on her housemate, but who knows where he could be. Erik... She wondered which of the rumors that she had heard that day were true. There was one that she felt was probably blown out of proportion, for the student who told it was one that she (and everyone else) recognized as... pompous. He wouldn't even be at the school had it not been for the fact that his parents were rich. Super rich. Anyway, he had told the nurse (a very skeptical lady, to say the least) that he got his injuries (a mild concussion and bruised ego) because his first class teacher, one mr. Destler (whom the boy had called Desty) threw him against his desk and shouted at him. Naturally, the poor nurse was forced to tell this to her superior, who was forced then to ask the students of that class. Maria was pretty sure that none of that actually happened, but rumors here move fast as sound will carry, and everytime they were retold, they had odd things added. By the time that she had heard about it for the seventh time that day (at lunch, in fact) the current story was that the boy had done something to cause Erik to go into a mad rage and punch him a couple of times before slamming him against the desk and forcing him to walk down to the nurses office. She didn't believe one word of it, and neither did the person who told it.

Isse sat down at her desk in her classroom and pulled out her ipad. It had taken the information from the camera in his room, and was still recording even as she pulled up the file to watch that mornings events. She settled deeper into her chair, plopped the ipad on her lap, and hit the play button, not quite sure of what to expect.


	24. Chapter 24

Sorry the chapter is short. Have had no time to work on it today.

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He was not sure whether the day went horribly or well. It had certainly started off rough, yes, but after that first class, things got better. In fact, if he were to think it, the day actually did go very well until he heard the rumor that had started because of that foolish boy needing to go to the nurse. What was his name? Charlie Resman? Something like that. Erik remembered when he first heard the rumor. It had made him stop dead in his tracks, and the people behind him who were gossiping must have realized then that he was the mentioned teacher. They had inquired (reasonably politely) how much of the rumor was true, and they proceeded to retell the tale once more as they had heard it. When they got to the part where he supposedly threw the insolent boy at the desk, he stiffened and started arguing adamantly that he had not even touched the idiot. When further asked what had actually happened, he told them what the truth was; he had no reason to with hold it from them- he did not need to hide anything. The three seemed to accept what he told them as the truth, and promised that they would spread his version around the school. And indeed, by the time he was back in his Italian classroom which he had started the day in, it seemed the entire school was abuzz with how the kid had mangled the story to suit his own needs. Erik found it truly remarkable that roughly 550 people could know the same information within fifteen minutes. Of course, they were aided by the technology now a days, which he still found truly remarkable. Just think! Wireless phone calls, made from devices smaller than his hand, which could take color pictures and go on the internet and solve math problems and answer questions and track you! Where had he been all his life?!

The bell rang once more, signaling the official end of lunch. A few of this classes students were already in the room, and more came scurrying in within seconds after it had finished sounding. Indeed, they all seemed to be talking about the latest version of the rumor in various languages. He let them talk, not feeling like he needed to stop them. After-all, they were not doing anything to harm him, now that the truth was told. He tuned in to a conversation just after the second bell.

"Yeah! Isn't this great! I hope no one dates that kid."

"He seems like a..."

"Language."

"Gah. Whatever." A slight pause happened in that conversation. "Soo... what teacher did this happen to?"

"A tall one, very pale, wearing a black suit. Wears a mask?"

"That sounds right to me." Another pause.

"Wait. How tall is the teacher in front of us?" He could feel their eyes turn on his back.

"Dunno. Tall."

"Pale?"

"Seems it."  
"He's got the black suit thing."

"Cool."

"Think he has a mask?"

"... I'm not su-" Erik decided to face the class finally. "Yeah. He's got a mask."

"Oh."

And so the class went.

* * *

At what seemed like too much time and too little, he was at last at the final minutes of his final class of the day; G period (last period for everyone) Italian. He had a gap period between E and G, so he had gotten a break, but he had not been sure what to do with it. If Erik remembered correctly (which he seemed not prone to do), then he had paced the hallways for a few minutes, wandered around out side for another few minutes, visited the library, and stayed there for the rest of the period reading some old book on some odd subject. Was it astrophysics? Something like that.

And now as this class wound to a close, he wondered what he was supposed to do with the rest of his day. Certainly, there was required chapel for everyone just after this class ended, but that would only take up another half hour or so. 3:34 would be the end of the school day on Mondays. 3:34. Why such a precise and arbitrary time? Oh, wait. There were seven minutes between classes, and lunch ended at 1:00, while the next class started five minutes later. Put forty-five minutes in for each class, add seven to each break period (only two, the break between lunch and E period had already been accounted for), and multiply by three. That made sense. That was the end of classes. Add another twenty-five minutes for chapel, and the day on Mondays would actually end at 3:59. Fair enough.

"Mr. Destler?" Would the mr end? "How do you spell..." the student said one of the vocabulary words they had just gone over; he was a notetaker. Erik gave him the proper spelling and fixed his pronunciation. If the students could not even spell these simple words, how were they supposed to spell the longer, more complex words?

The bell rang, signaling the time to go to chapel, and the students filed out of his classroom like pond water. He followed them after grabbing his ipad and locking the door. Although he was curious about what it would be like, he was reasonably sure that it would not be terribly exciting. He had heard that they had a decent sized organ there though. Maybe, just maybe, he could convince the organist (Paul Keis, if he recalled properly) to let him play something. And maybe, just maybe, it might reboot his memory.


	25. Chapter 25

Again, I apologize for the late in the day update. I have no real excuse. Sorry.

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Ahh, chapel. How much of a bore you are! Interesting speakers, few and far between. Cold seats; plentiful and painful there are. Sure, there were funny speakers, and even some genuinely quirky speakers, but finding good speakers..? Yeah, no. Speakers in chapel. Of course, it was a nondenominational chapel although the school was supposedly some form of Christian (not that anyone even knew that). Which is why there were speakers instead of preachers. It was tradition by now to have speakers. Upperclassmen speakers made up the bulk of the speakers throughout the year (it was required that each senior prepare a speech for chapel), but occasionally some teachers spoke or people were even brought in from the outside. Those speakers normally spoke at school meetings in the CFTA though. Not in the twenty-five or less minute chapel block. Unfortunately, the long speakers have been rather boring in the past. More uneventful, for the most part, than many chapel talks. In chapel, if nothing else, you do get to sing, and no-one can hear you, which can be rather enjoyable if you like getting an excuse to do so.

Maria walked to the back of the chapel, where she had been sitting (standing, really) for the last two years. She had her own little area claimed, reserved for her use, and her use only. Sometimes there was a chair there, and sometimes there wasn't. Today there wasn't. She was fine with that. They would eventually get enough chairs in there. It might take the entire year, but eventually there would be enough. Probably.

Most of the students were already there before her, and even Destler was there already, looking slightly lost and unsure of what to do, but there nonetheless. In fact, he kind of reminded her of a lost puppy. A really tall, mysterious, dark, golden-eyed puppy. Of course, normally it's only cats with golden eyes. She was sure that she could make an exception to that right then- nothing about him gave off a cat vibe. He caught her eye and walked over. He was much more graceful than a puppy though. Maybe she could bring him up to wolf status? Someone bumped into him, and he stumbled while catching them from falling. Nah, just puppy.

At last, he reached her (he was on the farthest side of the chapel), and he just stood next to her for a few minutes. It seemed to Maria that he was not going to be the one to start the conversation, and although she was curious about his perspective on the day, she had seen some of it one the tape. The silence was not an awkward one though, which she was grateful for. She hated awkward silences. This was more companionable, though it felt to her that he was radiating waves of insecurity. She wondered why. In the few days that they had known each other, it seemed to her that he was a decent, respectable, and even kind man. What would make him apprehensive?

Chapel started at last, and the sole pastor in on campus stepped up to what resembled a form of podium and began speaking. He mentioned some very quick announcements about how everyone should be getting a chapel seating email, the general routine of chapel, and the correct responses to general prayers. As soon as he was done, a student stepped up and announced who had birthdays that week and any other things that could be celebrated. That student continued on to mention the hymnal for that day. The Arxs School song. Maria groaned mentally. The words were nice and all, but whoever came up with it decided not to invent his own tune, but to use, get this, O Tannembaum. The organist started the intro once everyone was standing, and she heard Erik let out an actual groan next to her.

"Good lord! Was it not possible to compose your own music! And whatever idiot wrote this put it to Mon Beau Sapin!" That must be the French version of O Christmas Tree. His ranting became quieter when everyone started singing. "And to think the organ is being disgraced by this! When I find the person who put the lyrics to this, no, when I find the person who created the tune..." He trailed off glaring at space, leaving Maria to think of what he was imagining. His hands were shaped into claws, and he looked like he was fuming. She swore she could see steam venting off of him. It only took a simple song to get him riled up apparently. "And, to top it off, everyone is singing out of tune! Do they not realize that the organ, which is in tune right now, is playing a solid half step above what they are singing?! Save me from this butchering of music!" He paused and forced himself to listen for a second. "Correction. That group there is singing flatter than that. They are nearly singing a solid note lower! Does no-one in this room have a sense of music!?" Much to his (obvious) relief, the song ended quickly, and everyone except for the faculty in the back sat down. Another thing she now knew about her housemate. He was not one to have patience with bad singing. Honestly though, she couldn't hear what he was raving about. It seemed like just another rendition of that song to her.

"Do you have a copy of the sheet music for that?" He was whispering now, and wordlessly, albeit curiously, she handed a copy of it over to him from one of the hymnals. Curious to see what he would be doing, she looked over at him, not paying much attention to todays speaker. From somewhere, probably his blazer pocket, he had procured a pen. Using his right hand as a table, he began scribbling ... where those additional notes? onto it in the red ink. Maria looked at it harder. Indeed, he was adding extra pitches to the original score. When he had gone through it top to bottom, he then proceeded to add some words at the top. By the time he was done with the page, the speaker was only about halfway done her speech, and there was hardly an inch of white space left on the page. It made no sense to her whatsoever, as she had never been someone that was particularly good at deciphering bad handwriting and reading music. He nodded at it, folded it up, and made it disappear along with the pen. Isse briefly wondered at how he had become so skilled with that trick. She remembered the other day when he had literally stolen her watch off of her while she was watching it without her even noticing. It must have taken him many years to be able to do that. Maria would have to remember to ask him about it sometime, but for now, she would have to finish this chapel talk.

"-rother died." Who died? The speaker was doing a death talk on the first day? How morbid! "He... was like a twin to me, my inspiration, and in many ways, my heart." The speakers brother died. Oh. Her shoulders hunched, and her head became bowed. This was not a talk she needed to hear today. Why! Why had this person been chosen for today! Why couldn't this speech, whatever the rest of it was going to be about, have waited until the end of the year, or even the middle! She didn't want to think of death! It reminded her to much of her own sibling... Tears gathered slightly at the edges of her eyes. Her day could not have gotten worse within seconds.


	26. Chapter 26

Posting early today! Some fun shouting in this one. Hopefully Erik is starting to get more... Eriky. Comments, reviews, tips, critiques, etc, are appreciated!

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The music was terrible! Even him fixing it could only make it a bit better. He was not quite sure what he had against Mon Beau Sapin, but... He nearly shuddered even thinking about it! And, to further insult his ears, everyone singing was flat! He thought he would go deaf, which at that point would have been a saving grace! Good lord!

Erik was not aware that chapel for the day was over (and what a relief) until people, including Maria started going out of the doors in an unorganized mass. He stayed where he was, wanting to give his fixed piece of music to the organist, who he noticed was still by where the chorus sat talking to the man he assumed was the pastor. As soon as he could, he began pushing through the mob, taking care to not have anyone bump into him like that other person. For some reason, he did not like much physical contact- it seemed to make him jumpy.

By the time that he had managed to fight his way up to the chorus seating, the two that were talking were turning to leave. Not knowing what he was doing, but sure that he wanted to get there attention, he called out to them. They turned at the sound, seeming surprised that someone needed them. Well, not needed, per say. Wanted, really.

Erik whipped out the page he had marked up. "I..." Their eyes were focused on him (or his voice, he could not tell which). "I fixed the song." There. Was there anything else he needed to tell them?

"You... fixed... the song?" The pastor spoke incredulously. Was it really that hard to believe that the song needed work?

"Yes!" He held out the page of sheet music towards the organist, who took it. "I fixed the song! It needed some work."

The organist, a Paul Keis (who indeed appeared very old) unfolded the piece of paper and looked at it oddly. He glanced up, and then back down again. Up again. He gave the paper to the pastor, who stared at it for a second and gave it back to the organist.

"Do you recognize how terrifyingly difficult that would be to play? You turned a very simple tune into something exceedingly hard! I might be able to play your version of it, but it would take much practice." But wait, this organist fellow was supposed to be really good at the organ, was he not?

Erik snatched the piece of paper from Paul's hands, strode over to the organ, uncovered the keyboards, and began opening up the correct valves. The other two moved behind the keyboards, and if the organist had any protests about this unfamiliar man touching his instrument, he hid them failingly. There were very few artists who liked having their instruments played with by another person.

Propping the sheet of music up, he sat down at the bench and glared a bit at the pastor and Keis. This was not even a hard composition! He snuck a glance at the keyboards, placed his fingers upon the proper starting keys, and turned his head back to look at them while he played.

It was still recognizable as Mon Beau Sapin, but it had a distinctly different flare to it. Where as before it sounded rather boring and predictable, he had changed it to create a feeling of excitement and awe. And awe them he did. Never once did he take his eyes off of theirs. In fact, the pastor met him eye for eye. The organist, though, was too busy watching the chords as he played them and the sheet music, as if he was checking for an incorrect note. Not that Erik would play any. He was on his instrument.

His version of the piece ended with a resounding, but still melodic, chord that would have left questions had he not played an extra note on top. As soon as he was finished, the organist snatched the sheet off of the organ and gazed at it hard; he did not seem to want to recognize that this mysterious man in a mask had managed to play such a piece without any previous practice of it. That was plenty understandable.

There was silence in the stone room save for their breaths. Erik continued to look the pastor dead in the eyes. At last, the pastor dropped his probing gaze.

"I will see to it that this version copied and put in the hymnals. What is your name, son, so that I may give you credit?" His name? Had he forgotten to tell them his name?

"Erik Destler."

"You're the new Italian teacher on campus!" Well, if that was how he was going to be know around the school...

"Yes. That would be me."

"Good, good! I am father Houghthon. Pleased to meet you, son." Son. Erik was not sure whether he liked that or not. He probably did not. "As I said, I will copy this and put it out. In fact, I think that I should begin that now, so there is no more confusion." The pastor stepped lively away. Given his apparent age, he was quite springy. "Nice to meet you, my son!" The father disappeared out a side door that the chorus had exited out of.

The organist made a move to sit down on the bench with him, and he moved over so that there would be plenty of room. As soon as he was seated, Keis simply stared at Erik, like he was trying to read a book. He met the organists gaze, brown eyes against gold. It was unnerving to Erik to have someone try and read him like an open book. He could not remember (when could he ever?) someone studying him like this before. The organist rested his hands on the keyboard, and at long last broke eye contact.

"I don't know what you have been through. I don't wish to know what you have been through. You're pain is hidden but visible. You possess an uncontrollable temper that is controlled. You long for something that I do not know. I do not wish to know either." The elderly man looked back up at him. "If my seventy-eight years upon this earth have taught me anything, it is that you do not belong here, mr. Destler."

"Tell me why I do not belong here then. Do not say that I do not belong without reason." His temper was rising. Uncontrollable temper! This man knew something! "Tell my how I got here, monsieur! Tell me why!" He was practically shouting. He knew it, but he did not care. This man knew something. That was all he cared about.

The wizened man shook his head slowly and looked back down at the keyboard which he was running his fingers lovingly over. He seemed to be playing an imaginary tune.

"Monsieur! Tell me now! I beg of you!" Still, the old man shook his head. Erik was getting ready to throttle the answers out of the man.

"The weather is wonderful today, don't you think?" What! Was the fool trying to change subjects! He knew something! Erik needed the information! His voice dropped to a growl.

"Tell Erik anything you know, monsieur. Anything." Wait... 'tell Erik'? Destlers face dropped to one of mortification. Had he seriously just...

"I will not tell Erik anything, for I do not know anything. It was nice seeing you, but you have business to attend to. Good day!" The organist turned his body completely away from him, and Erik would have roared out loud in frustration if he was not already embarrassed by his third person moment. He turned and began walking down the steps to the chorus seating quickly. He had to get away from this oddly infuriating old fool before he did something rash!


	27. Chapter 27

Next chapter is here. On time for once... Thank you Guestie once more for you review! :)

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Maria sat on the plush couch and curled up into a ball. Soccer practice (for the first day) had been great and all even though she cut it short, but that chapel talk... why had they chosen one where the brother died? Could they not have gone for a happy one? One that wouldn't have made her think about her own brother? Her dear, sweet, innocent brother.

Her face became red and puffy. She would not cry for him. She would not cry for him. She would not cry for him. She would not... cry... A shuddering breath shook her body. She would not cry. Think happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. Remember when you and Raoul would go outside and throw mud at each other in the garden? Happy thoughts with her brother. Not happy thoughts right now. She would not cry. Maria gasped and wrapped her arms around her knees. No tears. Shed no tears.

But her brother... dear Raoul. Raoul Gustave Isse de Changy. Why did he have to die? She would not cry. Tears started to sting her eyes. No crying. No crying. No crying. Maria Isse threw her head to her knees. She would not cry. She would think happy thoughts without her brother. She would not cry. There were so few happy thoughts without her brother. No crying. Her entire face stung from trying to restrain them. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. She would not cry. No happy thoughts without dearest Raoul. No shedding tears. Her breath started to come unevenly, in short, heaving gasps. She would not cry. He was gone. That was it.

No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. Raoul. No! No crying. No crying. No crying. Sweet, sweet Raoul. Do not cry! Do not cry. Do not cry. No crying. No crying... Dear Lord! No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying.

"Maria..?" No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. The couch shifted. "Maria? What is wrong?" She would not cry, she could not cry. She would not cry, she could not cry. A hand tentatively wrapped around her shoulders. No crying. No crying. No cry... she lost it.

She flung herself from her ball and onto the person seated next to her. She wouldn't have cared even if it was the headmaster sitting there. Hugging him tightly, she sobbed. Cry, cry, cry! Her brother. Good Raoul. Her closest friend. Gone. Why? Why him? Why not her! She wanted him back. The tears flowed freely, freely, freely. Down her cheeks and into the persons shirt. Why could he not come back? Why was it not her that died in his place? Raoul!  
The person gently put his arms around her body, hugging her tight. She continued to cry. No crying. No crying. No crying. No crying. The tears fell harder. Too many months restraining them! Let them go, let them fall. Freely. Freely. Set them free. Set him free from death. Save him! The tears fell harder, and her nose probably started to run.

Why could Raoul not come back? Wasn't there a cure to that? A cure to death. Death. Death. Tears. Death. Tears and death. Why were the two associated? Had she not shed enough tears at the news of his death? Why had it not been her in the plane? It was her ticket to him! Why her brother? Why him? Why him, of all the good people in the world, why him? Tears... the persons shirt was soaking.

"Maria. It is fine Maria." The man was trying to calm her down. Was he? Why wasn't it him that was on the plane? Why could this man not have died for him? He wouldn't have been here for her. That's why. Why had she even thought such thoughts? Why, why, why! The person continued to coo gently in her ear like she was a baby. Was she? She was certainly crying like one!

Crying... Crying... Crying. Over what? A dead brother. Her dead brother. He told her not to cry! She was disobeying his last wish! What a horrible sister was she! And now she was thinking of herself. Would this cycle of tears never end? Never end... nothing always ends; nothing never ends. Great. Now she was into philosophy. How utterly wonderful. This was not how she was going to get over his death.

Maria sat up slowly. She needed to compose herself. The mans arms dropped off from around her. She hadn't even noticed that they had been there. She must have looked like a wreck, what with what she felt to be a bright red puffy face, puffed eyes, a runny nose, and hair in a wild knot. She was cold now that his arms weren't around her. The last person who held her like that had been her brother himself. Can't start thinking about him now. No thinking about him.

"Sorry. I... I just..."

"Maria." Oh... she had just broken down on her housemate! That was worse than breaking down on the headmaster would have been! Her head tilted farther down. "Maria. Look at me." She turned her head up towards him slightly, not wanting to make him any madder than he probably already was. "Maria." Oh, don't continue. Please! "People get frustrated all the time." No! Wait, what? He thought she was frustrated..? Well, in a way, she was. But... He continued speaking, and she took the opportunity to not let his words soothe him, but his voice.

She was disappointed when he finished speaking. Why couldn't he continue? As a favor to her? She didn't deserve it. Not worthy, not worthy, not worthy. No more favors. Not worthy of any of them. Not even conversation with Erik. But why had he stopped? Couldn't he just keep jabbering on? About the frustration thing? Was she frustrated? No. No, she was... she was frustrated with herself, but... no. She wasn't frustrated and... she wasn't frustrated with herself, but with herself and now she was thinking herself into knots and now she was frustrated and now-

He continued speaking. Joy, joy! Not worthy though. Never worthy. Not worthy of her brother, not worthy of this mans attempts to calm her, not worthy of nothing even! Maybe she could listen to what he was saying, to distract her from her worthlessness. She didn't deserve it, but...

"-orgotten everything before here."

He had forgotten something? Wasn't he supposed to have a wicked good memory? "Wait. What?" Did she just say that aloud? Oops. Maria looked up at him in all her messy glory. He had probably just said something important, and she had missed it. Not worthy.

"Erm..." Was he not going to say it again? How hard could it be?

"What were you saying about before here?" Before here equaled past. Past equaled curiosity. Maria, not as sad now (or frustrated) was curious.

He looked so reluctant! Was she pushing him to hard? No, clearly not. After all, had he not just said what she wanted him to repeat only moments before?

"I... I... I have... no... memory... before coming here."

Oh.


	28. Chapter 28

Hi again. I apologize that this chapter was so late. I got caught up in homework and rehearsals for two concerts. Anyway, heres Erik's point of view on Maria right now. Enjoy. Also, if anyone has anything that they might want to see show up in this story, let me know. Some fresh ideas would be great.

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Old fool. That is what the organist was. An old fool. Not telling him something that could have been important! Erik would have growled had there not been a few students walking a bit behind him that could have heard him. Cannot go scaring the students on the first day and all. That would not improve his reputation at the school in the slightest. It would not serve to start his reputation off on a good note either. But that old fool!

He practically stormed in the basement entrance of Ferenbach, briefly wondering if Maria was back from whatever she had to do. Probably not. He let the growl he had been holding out. It did not serve to improve his opinions of the man in the slightest. Why had he not told him what he knew! That would have made life so much easier! Was it really that hard to talk to him?.. He thought about that for a second. Probably. But, still. He could have at least told him something. Anything, really. Anything.

The upstairs door slammed shut, making him jump. Isse must be back now. What had she been at? Soccer? What was that, anyway? Some sport, obviously, but exactly what kind of sport? Played with a ball, most likely. She did not seem like a water sport person, so it was probably on the field or in the streets. Eliminate the streets because the school seemed too safe to allow its students to do so, which left the grass. So a grass sport, played with a ball. That did not serve to narrow down his imagination, but it did take his mind off of that old fool. Soccer... what an odd name. He wondered if it had any relation to something he had once heard called football. It might, though if it did, he was not sure how football evolved into soccer.

Speaking of, he had heard Maria come in, had he not? Or, at least, he heard the door close and footsteps. Did she not normally call out to him? Maybe it was not her. That would be interesting. He would actually quite enjoy it if it was not her. Perhaps a thief. That would be fun.

More silent than usual, he padded up the stair to the living room. He stuck his head out of the stairwell and looked around. Nothing seemed amiss. Too bad. Erik turned to go back down the stairs, but froze suddenly. There was most certainly someone up there, most likely Maria, but why would she be making noise if she was with herself? He listened harder. The sound was not speech. Was it sniffling? It sounded as though she was in pain.

Realizing that he would not be satisfied unless he found out why she seemed to be in pain, he turned once more and strode into the living room. He found her curled up in a ball on the couch, whimpering.

"Maria?" Was she going to cry? He sat down on the couch next to her; she started rocking back and forth. That could not be good, but what could he do? "Maria? What is wrong?" Was she whimpering harder now? What to do, what to do, what to do. How to comfort... How do you comfort? Maybe physical contact of some form?

Deciding that that was the most likely option, given that words were failing, he slowly reached an arm over to put around her. It was like she did not even realize he was there. She started rocking faster. Maybe no contact then..? He was withdrawing his arm when she jumped on him.

What? What! She just lunged onto him! Had something like this ever happened to him before? Probably not. He turned his face downwards to her form in his lap. Her hands were balled tightly within his dress shirt, and her face was pressed against it. She was crying. Crying, crying. Crying so hard it seemed that the heavens had opened up and rained. Crying hard enough to put any major water fall to shame. Crying. Merciless, unfiltered, crying. Nothing he could handle. But maybe... the whole physical contact thing seemed to have nearly worked before.

He settled his arms around her shoulders and squeezed gently. The contact felt nice. She seemed to start crying harder, but what could he do? How was he supposed to stop this woman that he was only barely starting to know from crying? No one had ever cried on him before! He was not sure how he knew that, but he just did.

"Maria. It is fine Maria." Everything is fine. She would be alright, and he still has no clue at how to make her better. She continued sobbing, and briefly he wondered how she was getting enough air with her head pressed into his shirt like that. Maybe if he kept talking to her, she would stop bawling. It was worth a try.

"There there, Maria. Everything will be alright. No need for tears." He spoke gently, unsure of himself. She continued crying. Would she ever stop? What was wrong, anyway? Had someone hurt her? Maybe that organist... No. He is too old to do anything to harm her. Maybe, is she simply frustrated about something? Frustration. That would make senses. She finally sat up a bit.

"Sorry." Her voice was still crying! "I... I just..." What was wrong!  
"Maria." Her head turned downwards at the sound of her name. Now with frustration, it was probably embarrassment for some reason. "Maria, look at me." She looked up at him shyly, hesitantly. "Maria, people get frustrated all the time. Lord knows that I do." Her eyes had gotten wide. Had he really nailed it that well? Impressive. "Today I really wanted to... do something to that organist. What a fool! Not telling me something that could have been important to my memory. Do you know how annoying that was? To be held within an inch of what you need, only to be pulled back." He paused. It did not seem to him that she was paying any attention. Well, at least she was looking at him now. That was better than crying into his shirt. Much easier to deal with too. He decided to speak on; it felt nice to rant a bit.

"You see, this organist guy, Paul Keis, the person you mentioned the other day, I met him when I gave the Mon Bieu Sapin sheet music to him. You know the one I am talking about. He is old. Seventy and a bit, or so he said. Anyway, he seems to know about me. Well, not me, really, but my past. You see, it seems that I have forgotten everything before here."

"Wait, what?"

Had she not been paying any attention? He really did not want to repeat himself. He was not even sure what had drawn him to admit that to her. He should probably say something though. She was looking at him oddly.

"Erm..." Well, that was creative. Erm. Is that the best you could come up with Erik? Seriously?

"What were you saying about before here?" This was really not something that she needed to know. But... did she perhaps know something too? Was it possible that she could help him? She was, after all, related to one of the names that he could remember. Just maybe...

"I... I... I have... no... memory... before coming here." There, said and done. She looked at him like he was crazy. Was he? He frowned. He did not think he was. Then again, he most certainly could be.

"You've got no memory before here?"

"That is what I said, is it not?" Did she not hear him? He had repeated himself. Was she starting to go deaf? No. She was not. That would not make sense. It would explain why she was ignoring him, but, no. She was simply in disbelief. Was it really that hard to believe?

"So... how'd you end up losing it?" Good question.

He shrugged. "I have no idea."

"Are you looking for it?" She is making it sound like memory is a lost puppy! It is not that easy! It cannot be that easy!

"Well, obviously. But..." There is a term in English for this. Amnesie, in French. Might as well give it a go. Maybe she could figure the word out. "Amnesie. How do you say that in English?"

Maria frowned, and he noticed that her face was returning back to a normal color. "Amnesie... sounds a bit like amnesia. Loss of memory, right?" Erik nodded. "Amnesia then."

"Thank you. You cannot simply go and grab your memory after amnesia. I wish it was that simple."

"Well, how do you know that it isn't that simple? Do you know from experience?" Well, no. But it would not make sense! "Maybe it will be that easy. It might just suddenly all come back to you. That'd be kinda cool." It would be nice.

"That is not going to happen. It would not make sense. I think that I need to find some form of... catalyst," He looked to Maria to see if he said that right. She nodded. "Some catalyst to initiate it to come back. Before you ask, I do not know what the catalyst could be."

She paused a moment before speaking. "You seemed to remember my relatives name, of all things. Did it not make you remember anything?"

"No. Not a thing. It would not make sense for me to remember someone from the 1800's anyway." Unless... "Is there another Raoul in your family?"

She flinched away from him. Was this a sore spot for her? It must be.

"There was one other, but he is as unlikely and option as old Raoul." Pain was flickering across her brilliant blue eyes. This must be a superbly sore spot then. He continued anyway.

"Why?"

"He's dead." And was the elder Raoul not dead too?

"So is the vicomte."

"He was my brother." Ah. Well, that explained why she looked like she was being stabbed. But it did not explain why she thought that he was a more unlikely person for him to recognize than the old Raoul.

"And why should I not recognize the name? He was in the same time period."

Maria continued to look more hurt than she already was. "Have you been out of France before coming here?"

"Yes." Many places. "To name a few, Russia, Italy, Spain, and Persia." He had been there. Nothing else was remembered about them.

"Have you been to America before?"

"No." Well, at least he thought he had not.

"My brother never left the states. He died on the plane that would have brought him to France for the first time in his life."  
Well, that settled that. She was starting to tear up again. Definitely time to drop the subject. Ungracefully, he attempted to change the subject.

"How were your classes today?" And thus he steered Maria away from the topic of her deceased brother and his memory lossage.


	29. Chapter 29

Thank you reviewers! This chapter is rather short compared to others recently, but it is still something.

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"Any questions for today?" No one called out or raised their hands. "In that case, you are good to go. Please remember that the homework tonight is on ITunes U, as usual. Be ready to share your work tomorrow in class." The students stood, grabbed their bags, and filed out of her classroom just as the bell rang. Maria herself gathered up her things, turned off anything and everything within reach, and locked the door as she left the room. She had half an hour before she needed to be on the farthest field from the school to coach soccer. Plenty of time to walk home, get changed and speed over there, so long as she took the car. Had she decided to walk, it would have taken up about half of the allotted time period. Thats what the students had to do though. Really, they had no time, especially at the beginning of the year- some of the new students still could not find their way around campus. Briefly, as she walked out of the building and to Ferenbach, she wondered if her team would remember how to get to the far fields. Hopefully, they would.

The far fields were aptly named. They were playing fields for all manner of sports, such as soccer, lacrosse, field hockey, baseball, and football. Had they been put on the main campus, navigating from one building to the next would have taken over seven minutes, which is what was given between classes. Instead, some person had realized that there was a sizable lot across from the school that was empty a while back, and would probably be big enough for a field or two. Indeed, the lot was large enough for five soccer sized fields, two football fields, a pair of baseball fields and a track. It was large enough, in fact, that if someone were to run all the way around it, they would run slightly over a mile.

Maria reached the dorm with about twenty five minutes to spare. Take seven minutes out of that for the drive, and there was still enough time for her to get completely ready and not need to run out of the door. She would use every second of her given time, too. With all honesty, Maria wasn't quite sure how her players managed to be there at their field early. JV Girls soccer was not exactly high on the priority of good, close fields. In fact, they had scored the farthest, highest up field the far fields had to offer. It took fifteen minutes for any person with an average walking speed to get there. Ten, if that person were to speed walk, and about six if the were to run the entire way. Students had been late often enough for them to get curious and time themselves. She made a mental note to tell them that they had an extra ten minutes to get there past the usual half hour. They would need it.

"Hello, Erik." He was back before her, which was really no surprise given that his classroom was a floor below hers and that he was a faster walker. Without waiting for him to reply, she jogged down the stairs to her room. One hand reached behind her and set to undoing her dress, while the other opened and closed drawers, looking for sport clothes. Finding what she needed, Maria got redressed, grabbed a pair of cleats, and went back upstairs. He was still in the same place that she left him; sitting on the chair he had fallen asleep in at one point reading a book. She looked at her watch. Seven minutes before she had to leave.

"Are you doing anything today besides reading?" She directed the question at the man in the chair, and it seemed to take him a second before he realized that she spoke.

"Pardon?" So he was one of those types of readers. The type that got completely involved with the book and seemed to forget that the outside world existed for a moment. Fair enough.

"Are you doing anything besides reading today?" Maria paused. "What are you reading?" It seemed like a rather hefty book. Quite hefty, in fact. And old. Perhaps it was one of the books that she had noticed in the desk drawer when she had gone into his room.

"This is Les Misérables." That would definitely explain the size of the old, hardcover book. "I probably will be considering what I should bring up in my classes tomorrow, and then what to assign for the homework, later in the day." Fair enough, but does he not have an extra curricular activity that he is involved in?

"Don't you have an activity that you are involved with after school?" Most, if not all, the teachers had something at some point in the year.

"Not that I am aware of." He frowned slightly. "Do you not need to be at your... soccer right now?" Soccer seemed to be an unfamiliar word on his tongue. He probably knew it better as football.

Maria glanced down at her watch. She should probably go, if she wanted to be there before her most of her players. "You're right. I need to go." Maria grabbed the car keys which she had left in the kitchen. "You should try and find some extra curricular thing to do. They make the day more interesting." She shut the door tightly behind her.


	30. Chapter 30

First off, I apologize for the really late post. Second off, I apologize that this one doesn't have a tidy ending. Third off, I apologize because I didn't like this one, so it is not very good. I've tried rewriting it multiple times (hence the late post) but nothing is working.

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"That is incorrect Liam. If you are able to walk or march to a song, it has duple meter. If you are able to waltz to it, then it has triple meter. Not the other way around."

Wednesday, the third day of classes, with a very different schedule than the previous two days. Instead of the seven forty-five minute blocks, there were three seventy minute periods, with the remaining four happening the next day, Thursday. This particular HAM class happened to be the last requirement of the day, save for any sports.

The bell rang right then, and the students started putting their Ipads and notebooks away. "Do not forget to fill out and complete the art and music review sheets. They will count as a grade." He had found in those three days, that if one were to mention a grade, for anything, the students would be sure to do it. It was nearly as good as threatening demerits. Mind you, he had only ever done that twice, the one time on that first day, and once on Tuesday for a dress code violation. He had only actually written one of those. Just the first one. Someone else would give the student the demerit for the second one.

"Mr. Destler?" And the girl still called him mr. There really would be no way to get rid of that, would there?

"Yes, Anna? And you do know that you do not need to call me with the mr."

She seemed to roll her eyes at him. "Well, what else would you have us call you? By your first name?"

"That would actually be more preferable than anything with the mr. Now, what was your question going to be?" Indeed, having them call him Erik seemed more natural. Less formal, yes, but many other teachers chose to drop some of the formality- these children were already in blazers! They deserved some slack.

"You would actually like your first name better? What is it then?" The few remaining students that had not yet left looked up from readying their bags, appearing to be as curious as little Anna.

"Erik. What was your question? Your original question."

"Are you available for extra help anytime soon? I'd be coming for Italian as much as HAM." That was what she originally intended to ask? Could she not have simply said that?

"If you need any extra help, go to Ferenbach dorm, it is in Mac village." She nodded her head, grabbed her bag sitting on the table, and left.

* * *

"Afternoon, Erik." Maria did not seem to be in much of a hurry today, for she sat down on the couch across from where he was reading. "Have you found any extra curricular to do besides read?"

He looked up from his book at her, shook his head, and continued on reading. He was just starting a good part in the old novel, and he did not particularly care to be disturbed right then.

"You really should find something. Anything would do. Maybe a sport, or an afternoon art..?" He chose to ignore her. "Come on, I'll keep talking until you come up with something, or until I need to change for soccer. Whichever comes first." He wondered if she actually would try and distract him from his chapter. He flipped the page. Indeed, it seemed that she was determined to keep talking. He flipped the page once more. And another time, and again. She kept chatting at him. He finished his chapter, memorized the page number, and put the book down.

"Are you going to listen now?" It was unlikely that he would unless she started hitting him, though he had to admit that he had nothing better to do. She went on talking, and he went on staring into space.  
"..ow what! I'm taking you to soccer today!" Maria leapt forwards and grabbed his hand.

"Wait, what?!" She pulled hard on his arm, causing him to fall out of his chair and onto the floor. She pulled him to his feet, which was quite a feet, given the height difference between the two.

"You. Are coming. To soccer. With me." She proceeded to drag him across the room and down the stairs. Why was he going to soccer with her? And did she really need to drag him like that?!

"Hey! Let go! I am able to walk down stairs by myself!" His left hand reached out to grab the railing, effectively slowing down, if not stopping Maria's progress down the stairs. She pulled harder. "I can walk down myself! You are only going to hurt yourself if you keep yanking on my arm!" And she would hurt him, but her injury would be greater than his if she were to fall down the remaining stairs.

"Do you promise to get changed into a t-shirt and shorts? And to be out of your room within ten minutes?" She was trying to look him in the eyes, but the fact that he was standing a few stairs above her made that a rather difficult task.

"I promise." There was nothing better to do. It was not like it was much of a defeat anyway. Just another thing that he would need to do that day. Nothing more. He shrugged out of her grip, continued down the stairs, and glared at her as he passed. Staying true to his word, although he could have, and had every right to go back on it, he found athletic clothes that he did not remember ever owning and put them on. Unsurprisingly, they fit perfectly, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if it was he or the mysterious man that had packed his bags.

"Erik! You are coming!" He supposed that he was going, even if it was not under his own power- she had already proven that she was more than capable of dragging him around. Erik stepped out of the room, and nearly ran into Maria, who had been hovering outside of his door. "Good. Lets go. I'm driving." They were driving there? How far away exactly did she say her soccer was? It must be quite distant from their location.

They left the building together, and he followed Maria to a automobile unlike any other he could imagine. It seemed smaller, much smaller, and certainly more compact. It looked to be more efficient as well. Maria got into the thing and gestured for him to do the same. He went to the passenger side and slid into the seat. It was decidedly much smaller than the automobiles he could remember. But why could he only remember useless things!

"You look a bit uncomfortable there." Maria had glanced over to where he was sitting. It was not really sitting, more of crouching so as not to hit his head.

"I will manage." He would have to manage, even if he did not want to. She did something on her side, that, to Erik, looked very strange, and the contraption rumbled quietly to life. Much quieter than what he could recall. In fact, as he thought of it now that Maria was pulling out of the parking lot, the automobiles that he could, indeed, remember seeing, were much larger, louder, and less efficient than this little thing! He even had a vivid memory of one roaring by him at... night? splashing him with water- it had been raining. There were no other things on the street except him and that car.  
"This town isn't exactly the home of upperclass people." Maria's words snapped him out of the past and back into the present. "Actually, it's rather ironic that one of PA's most expensive and prestigious private schools should end up in a town like this. Mind you, the town wasn't always this bad. In fact, it used to be quite rich, much like Allentown used to be." Allentown? "Unfortunately, the same fate befell this place as that town."

"And what fate would that have been?"

"Right, you wouldn't know. Allentown back in the 1860's produced steel. Lots of steel, it was their industry. They shipped it all over the place. Unfortunately, in 1870 or so, the steel business was halted due to the economy. Don't ask me for specifics, all I know is that it was bad. Really bad. Anyway, Allentown had some really bad times for a while there, but they recovered reasonably well. The town that the school is in, this town, was affected by the same economy that shut down Allentown. The difference is that this town never recovered."

"And the school was founded before the... depression?" That seemed like a good enough word to use for what she was describing.

"Yeah, in 1861, so in the growing height of the steel industry. It was a really beautiful town back then apparently. Rich, too, to support the building of this place. We're here, by the way." Where exactly was here again? Right. Soccer.

They were parked on a wide street, with houses to the left of them, and a large, grassy field on the right. The field was fenced in, and there were a few girls on the field. They appeared to be putting on shoes, which seemed like a rather odd thing to do there to Erik given that they were outside and away from their dorms. He made no comment to Maria about this though, it seemed that she was expecting them to be doing just that.

He got out of the automobile, relived that he could get out of his cramped position. Not so gently, he knuckled a kink out of his back and sighed before looking at Maria pointedly.

"Next time, if you could give me warning on how small that thing is," He gestured towards the automobile, "I would be appreciative." She merely shrugged at him before going around to the back and opening up the trunk.

"Help me carry stuff." She could at least be polite about it. She had, after all, just shoved him into that miniature excuse for an auto. Although he had to admit, that it was much quieter, smoother, and faster than the ones he was used to. "Please." There we go.

He came around the back of it to see what she was struggling with. There were a few things: A stack of brightly colored short cones, another of tall cones, and a decently-sized, awkward looking mesh bag full of balls.

"I'll take the cones and unlock the fence, if you take the soccer balls." Fair enough. The bag appeared to be larger than her. He grabbed it out and walked behind her over to the gate in the fence. The bag actually was not all that heavy. Simply odd to carry.

True to her word, as he expected her to be, she unlocked the gate, pushed it open, and led him inside. She did not bother closing it behind her.  
"Afternoon Caroline. Emily." She nodded her head at the pair of girls closest to them. More had arrived while they were unloading the trunk. About ten more, in fact. This did not seem to satisfy Maria though, for she looked to be searching for more. "Where are the other five? Practice starts in only a minute or two."

"Some of them might have Z period." The first girl, Caroline, said.

"I've heard rumors that at least one person has changed to community service. Didn't like the running we did yesterday I guess." Emily continued.

"Z period. Right. I forgot. I guess we'll just have to start without them. Do you two mind taking the people that are here on two laps and then the stretches that we did last practice?" They walked to a white line running down the middle of the field, and called everyone else to them. Once they had everyone behind them, they set a pace jogging around the spray painted white box on the grass.

"And that, Erik, is pretty much the entire team. We still aren't sure on each others names, so I won't try and point them out to you. I expect at least two more people to drop." She paused and looked at something in the distance as the group completed their first lap. "Good. The Z period people are coming up now." As soon as they were within comfortable shouting range, she called to them. "Run two laps then do stretches and catch up with the team!" The acknowledged her, for they did not stop to change their shoes, which they were carrying, and instead simply chucked them with a pile of other shoes. The shoes that they tossed onto the pile were different though- they seemed to have spikes on the bottom.

The main group finished their laps and gathered themselves into three lines. They proceeded to do some things that were probably supposed to the stretches. The Z period two caught up with them and joined in. As soon as those stretches were finished, the pair that had thrown their shoes aside took a moment to put them on, while Maria organized the rest of the team into a loose circle around the center of the field. He and the two latecomers joined in.

"Since I doubt that anyone here remembers everyones name, we're doing a few more name games today." Name games. He had enough of these on the first two days he arrived. He did not need, nor care for, anymore. Name games! "We are going to first go around the circle and say our names again, then I will pass a ball to someone, who's name I will call. They will pass it on, and so forth. I'll start. If you didn't notice, I'm your coach. Isse is fine, and so is coach." They began around the circle clockwise, leaving Erik to be the last person.

Name games! "I am Erik. I am only here because she physically dragged me here." He gave a pointed glare at the woman to his left. She smiled devilishly. Someone laughed quietly.

"Anyway, Sam, the ball is going to you." She kicked a black and white ball towards the girl she named. "Remember who you receive it from and who you pass to! That'll be important later." Sam passed it to a girl across the circle, who kicked it at someone a few people away from her. Another girl, who four or five passes had it then, passed it to him. Quite frankly, he had no clue on how to kick it, but he assumed it probably did not matter. He pointed it towards to someone else and kicked it towards them. There really was nothing to it.


	31. Chapter 31

Next chapter for you guys. Partially to make up for the one before hand (I really do apologize for that!), and partially because I had nothing better to do but to type this. I admit, it really is rather useless to the story in the scheme of things, but meh. Comments, tips, ideas... need I say more?

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Maria smiled. Today had been a good day, or at least, decent. She had to admit that dragging Erik to soccer had been fun and amusing, but not necessary. Someone had actually spoken to her about co-coaching with her during lunch, another one of the new teachers. They were going to start at the beginning of the next week. Even though she would have an aid soon, and she wouldn't need her housemate there, it seemed that the players actually listened to her when he was around. They were probably quite intimidated by him, although he hadn't given them much of a reason to be. He really only looked intimidating, what with his height, eyes, and mask. Especially the mask. After all, how many people do you meet that wear a half mask? He was the first for her.

The mask... he had told them why he wore it, something about a deformity? That sounded right. She wondered if he realized that no-one would judge him on what only half his face looks like. It's not like there aren't unattractive people out there. He seemed like a smart enough gut though, smart enough to certainly realize that fact. How bad could it be? It must be bad enough to make him think that he needed the mask at all times. She had never seen him with it off. Then again, she had only known him for, what? A week and a half? Two weeks? Something like that. Now that she thought about it, a rather short period of time. Certainly not enough for him to even consider taking it off in front of her. Did he even take it off when he slept..? Probably. The skin would most likely get irritated if he didn't take it off. His skin probably was quite irritated- he lived in that thing. He really did.

How long had he lived in it? Correction, how long had he had it? Since he was a kid? A teen? Before he came? When? That was certainly something to ponder over. Maria wondered whether he would mind if she asked him. But wait, had he not said something about memory loss? Oh yeah. No memory before coming here. She found that quite strange. Either he was a very good actor (which she could believe), or he was telling the truth. It hadn't seemed like he was lying to her when she said that, but that didn't eliminate the fact that he could just be a good actor. She knew plenty of people that could utter a lie while looking you dead in the eye. They could make you believe it, too. Yet that seemed wrong to her. Not that she doubted his ability as an actor, but something about the way he had said it made it seem... real. Actual. Perhaps that was just his voice getting to her. It certainly was rather difficult to listen to anything except for him when he spoke. She had no doubts that the voice could convince her of anything, should he set his mind to it. Very honestly, she hoped that he wouldn't get that idea. She didn't want him to use it on her. That would not be fun.

But his voice! She really could listen to it all day, should he speak for that long. Maria would settle for a reasonably long conversation with him. Longer than the conversations they normally had. He was not much of a talker. Quite shy, in fact. She found that amusing. People thought him imposing! If they only got to know him a bit better. Really, there is nothing that she has found imposing about the man.

Then again, how much did she actually know about him? Very little. She hardly knew what he liked, or if he liked anything asides from music. She didn't even know his birthday, or favorite color! Any teenager in the school, had they been given a roommate that they had never met before, would know this within the hour of meeting them! Take the entire Ferenbach dorm for example. She wasn't a teenager anymore though. It is perfectly reasonable to not need to ask those questions, to have him tell her on his own. The only problem is that that method goes completely against her personality- no waiting and seeing for her; it takes too long.

"Maria? Snap out of it Maria. You have someone here to see you." What? Where was she again? Right. It was after practice. Study hall. A student was here to see her. Okay. She started walking away from him. Him. Her housemate. Could he read minds? That would be bad. He would have heard everything she just thought. Mmh. Not good. Of course, it's impossible for people to read minds...

"Maria? They are not in the kitchen." Well, obviously not. Why would he say such a comment? She looked around, her eyes finally starting to see once more. She was, indeed, in the kitchen.

"Right. They're downstairs. Need to start focusing. That'd be good. Very good. Way better than having them in the kitchen. Why would they be in the kitchen? Erik would have invited them up. He wouldn't, would he? No. Not unless they wanted cake. They wouldn't tell him that though. Maybe he can read minds. Or can't."

"I can't." Wait, what? "Read minds." But she had just thought that..? "You were thinking aloud." Oh. On that note, Maria hastened down the stairs away from her housemate, whom she could tell was laughing at her.


	32. Chapter 32

Next chapter for you guys, out about on time for once! Reviews are accepted and valued! I haven't done a disclaimer in a while, but I don't own POTO.

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Erik smirked at her retreating figure. Thinking aloud could be quite embarrassing, as her moment was quite exemplary for that. She thought he could read minds of all things! It was quite amusing that she would think that of him, for, as far as he knew, he had given her no cause to believe such thoughts. His smile became slightly more visible, had anyone been watching, as he wondered whether or not her thoughts were always as disjointed as she had spoken them to be. It seemed to him that she had too much on her mind at any given moment to truly complete a thought sentence. If nothing more, that would explain all the fragmented sentences. Most of the spoken thoughts he had heard lacked the principle parts of speech. Only three or so of the sentences that she had spoken had been complete. If nothing else, many fewer than had she thought about what she had been saying.

Although, he supposed that he should not be judging Maria on her thought processes. He was not one to argue, though he did normally complete his thoughts before straying to another. Not that focusing on one topic was hard, but it was much more interesting to have a few thought trains running at once, so when he got tired with the topic at hand he could simply switch to a background thought and continue thinking about the original topic while focusing on the new one. Erik did have to admit to himself that it was quite bad when he could not remember which thought he was supposed to be focusing on and they all came together in a large jumbled mess of knots and thoughts. It could take minutes for him to finally sort out what he meant to think, and by then, it usually was of little importance anymore. Not that this happened often, mind you. Simply, every once in a while. He was not quite sure of how he physically reacted to the thought crashes, and was not sure if he even did. Probably, he simply stood there like a statue, waiting for them to organize themselves. But that simply did not seem quite right to him. It was a feeling, perhaps one from experience. He could not tell. Whatever the case, standing like a statue when he lost his thoughts did not seem correct. No, definitely not. Venting sounded better. Much like a worse form of desiring to yell at that old organist (who he had learned to be in the security department as well- the man had his own school security golf cart). A much worse form of organist beating. He was not sure how he could tell this, but one thing was for sure, he did not want to let his thought trains collide; it would not turn out well for anyone.

It would certainly be nice to have his memory back. Then he could remember his life, and all of his background thoughts would make sense. Background thoughts that he found to be rather disturbing, not only that he would be thinking them, but of what they were themselves. They could have been more strange, he supposed, but the oddness of them from his current manner of thinking was quite shocking. In fact, they were different enough from his present state of mind that they could have come from another person entirely. A slightly insane person, to say the least. A self-deprecating person too. Perhaps, if he were to regain his memory, then he could think of where these thoughts had come from, whether they had been planted in his head by others, or whether he thought such things himself. He hoped that they were there because of the former option- he did not want to think of himself as insane. But really, there was no choice in the matter of saneness. Either you are insane, or you are sane. There is no grey area between the two. At least, there was no grey area or blurred line that he knew of. Perhaps there is. Really, it is useless thinking about it unless you are there in that nonexistent area, which would be quite hard, given that it has not been proven that there is such a thing as a line between sanity and insanity. The memories, the background thoughts, were not on such a blurred line; he would have welcomed that. No, they were decidedly crazy. Crazy and depressing.

Monster was the first word that came to him from those thoughts. Monster, followed by devil's child, followed by the living death, or as he thought of it, le mort vivant. These titles, if he was to call them anything, were not directed at any creature other than himself, hence the self-deprecating and rather depressive nature of these background thoughts. Truly, he had no good reason to call himself a monster that he knew of, nor devil's child, or even the living death. They must have been given to him by someone, but who would go out of their way to give such a name to him? If he was their monster, would they not simply have chosen to kill him or be rid of him when they had the chance? Really, it made no sense that he would think of himself these names unless he deserved them. Unfortunately, there was no way to discover the absolute meaning behind any of them, given that he had no memory. It was quite disorienting, in a way, not even being able to remember who made you think of yourself as a monster in the back of your head. Of course, there were many other names that differed from monster or devil's child, but all of them that he could think of had a rather negative connotation, if not downright bad. Trap-door lover? Angel of death? (That one was not one that he really wanted to know the story behind, but one that he certainly would need to.) The red death. O.G (Odd initials, given that his were actually E.D) And the last one that popped up, which he surprisingly was not okay with, even though it sounded much better than all the others, was angel of music. He was not sure why he did not like the angel of music thing, as it was quite a large amount better than the other titles floating around his head. Yet, in it's own way, it was worse than even monster or angel of death. Angel of death... he was not sure if he desired to explore the meaning of that further than what he already knew, which was nothing. Although he was loathe to admit it, living would possibly be easier if he chose ignorance over knowledge- for then, you could not have guilt or anxiety over the past when you do not know what has happened. As he has heard people say, ignorance is bliss.


	33. Chapter 33

Whoa! Longest chapter yet for you guys (3000+ words)! Partially because I couldn't find a good place to stop until where I did, and partially because you've waited so long for it. Sorry about that, by the way. This one is primarily written from Garrison/Doc G's point of view, I introduced him a while back though... Anywho, comments are appreciated, and really, I do need some ideas. I honestly don't quite know where I'm going with this.

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Advisor lunches were now on Fridays, not Thursdays. The change was causing more confusion among the returning students then the entire rest of the new schedule; everyone was running across the dining hall, weaving through tables, shouting (and swearing) as they attempted to find where they were located. In other words, it was complete chaos. Even some of the teachers seemed to be having a hard time of it- some were attempting to get to their table without spilling their drinks or food as they were jostled by the throng of students. Maria had been lucky, for her classroom was exceptionally close to the dining-hall, and she had managed to get to her seat before the student body (save for the prefects) was even allowed in.

Erik, on the other hand, was less fortunate than she. He must have come up from the CFTA, which was one of the longest walks on campus. He had gotten here after the students had been let in, and to top off the poor mans difficulties, the table he was to sit at for advisory was different than the one he usually sat at. Maria reasoned that this was due to the fact that the groups at his usual table were quite large, and he had no advisory group of his own. Either way, his new seating arrangement placed him in the raised area of the dining-hall, at table number four, on the West end with Garrison. Doc G, as everyone affectionately called him. If she recalled, they had met before, during dinner at one point. It had been very brief though, Erik hadn't wanted to stay very long.

The bell rang, signaling to everyone that had found their seats to sit, and everyone who had not yet to hurry up. Now that the students could see the table numbers, and since most of the students were already sitting, the few left standing made it to their tables with relative ease, leaving this lunch to become just another school lunch where people sat with different people.

* * *

The masked man and he had met before. Briefly, very briefly, yes, they had. He could not recall how it had gone, but he knew that it had ended with the crew gossiping about the reasons behind the mask. What had he thought it would be? A deformity of some form? Yes, that sounded correct. The fellow really could have taken it off, only a few people would have minded. People such as that man, Ricard. What was wrong with him anyway? Could the man that called himself French, although he had only been born there, not see that he was deeply rude and repelled everyone that was around him? How blind could he be? Clearly, exceedingly.

Not that Ricard mattered much in the grand scheme of things. Everyone made an enemy of the man. He was exceedingly touchy in that respect. Much like he was touchy about everything. The only possible way that the new teacher could have befriended him was to be a greater idiot and more 'attention worthy' than him. What was the new teachers name, anyway? E. E something or another. Strong sounding. Derik? Erik? Erik. That was it. Erik Dest... ler? Erik Destler? That seemed right. Erik Destler. Not a very French sounding name. The fellow didn't seem very French either. Really, he had no obvious, discernible nationality. Although he had to admit, Destler seemed to be very comfortable in French, and spoke it with a decidedly Parisian accent. Garrison had taken the language in high-school, then college, along with Latin. He had become fluent in the first, and remained quite miserable in the second. Which he found odd, given that he taught philosophy, and many of the great philosophers were Greeks or Romans.

With any hope, this new teacher would make it through the school year without making any more enemies. Lord knows that the fate he wished for the man had not happened to him- he had challenged everything and everyone when he joined, knocking heads with more than one person. Most of the community, in fact. On the bright side, his students had loved the way he taught, and they still did. And on that same side, someone had managed to overlook his obvious flaws and accept him as a friend. Given the base he himself had started from, Erik Destler had it going quite well.

"Doc G! How's it goin'?" The philosophy teacher snapped out of his memories and thoughts to look at his advisee, a prefect named Josh. His entire table was primarily prefects, with one or two third and forth formers there. His group consisted of five people, not including either himself or Destler, who was sitting awkwardly to his right. The man simply seemed to not like people.

"Fine, Josh, just fine. How is school so far for you?"

"Meh. I don't like my chem teacher."

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Howard."

"And why do you not like him?"

The prefect began ranting about why he didn't like his chemicals teacher. Patiently, Doc G listened with half an ear- this is what advisors did. To his left though, he couldn't tell if Erik was completely annoyed with the boy, if he was challenging everything he said, or if he was impassive. The only thing he could see, after all, of his face, was the white mask.

"-ades!" The ranting of the prefect came to an end at last. The waiter had escaped somewhere during it to go get the tray of food. She wasn't back yet. "I know what I need to do, but I really can't stand him! And he doesn't like me either!"

"And what is it that you think you must do?"

"...Go talk to him."

That was, indeed, what the student needed to do. It rather obviously wouldn't happen, unless Josh had gotten a sudden personality shift, but it was necessary. If he didn't, the rest of the year of chem would probably not be enjoyable, and mr. Howard, Nicholas, would lose most of his respect for the student. He purposefully started out rather mean and difficult to see who would suck it up and ask him for help. Only when the entire class did that would he become his nicer self. Nick liked to see who is determined enough to swallow their pride to make it through the course. It was a great way to judge character, though not a way to make students like you.

"Then go talk to him after lunch. Don't tell him I said anything to you, but he will only make the course easier when everyone goes for extra help. You don't want to be the person who prevents your class from achieving that. Believe me though, he is a nice man. You'll see soon enough."

The prefect considered his words for a few moments before sighing in defeat. "You're right, as usual. But does he really mean to be mean?" Hadn't he just said that to him? "Yeah, never mind."

The waiter came back. She was the only third former at the table not allergic to essentially everything, so the getting of the food for the lot of them was naturally her duty. The other third former was not lactose intolerant, but literally allergic to milk. Deathly allergic. There had been an incident the other day at a school-wide barbecue. The food which he ate had no mile, but it was cooked on the same grill as something with milk. He needed to go to the hospital. It was an odd allergy to have, even more so because he could be around milk so long as he didn't physically touch anything that had been touched by it. The boy, because of this, was required to go and get a specially prepared meal when the waiter left. He had come back before her.

"What is it today Ee?" Her actual name was Erin, but the nickname Ee stuck with them the first time the advisees had met, really for no reason.

"Umm, baked..? chicken with... rice pilaf? and broccoli." Indeed, the only truly identifiably thing was the broccoli, but given that the school kitchen had to mass prepare the dish, it wasn't going to be horrible, though the rice looked rather dubious. He served everyone, save for the people that didn't want any, or where going up. Really only he, the waiter, and Destler dared to try it. It was fine.

The meal was primarily eaten without conversation. The people at his table were giving Erik some looks out of the corners of their eyes, trying to remain polite, but it was quite obvious how curious they were about this person who hadn't been in their group the first time they met. For the most part, they couldn't see his mask, and the looks quite clearly weren't because of it. Eventually, someone (a prefect of one of the girls dorms) made a move to inquire about the man.

"So, Doc G, is there anyone else in your group thats new?" She was staring straight at Destler as she said this, but it was completely forgivable in his mind given that she was the person seated next to Erik. He kept his eyes starting straight ahead.

"Just mr. Destler here that I know of." Garrison looked at the new teacher, expecting him to say something in terms of greetings. The man remained mute. Clearly, he wasn't going to be much for conversation, at least today.

"Oh. You're the new Italian-HAM teacher, right? The one that was playing the piano the other day?" He nodded his head slightly. "Cool. You play beautifully- I was in the art room when you started. It seemed that the piano needed to be tuned slightly though, I heard at least one key that was out of whack."

"The F5 was flat, and the C4 was sharp." He agreed with her. And at last he spoke! He really did have a very nice voice... "The entire room did not have great acoustics for even an instrument of that size. It would have sounded much nicer in the auditorium." His eyes turned from his empty plate (which Doc G wondered at, for he hadn't seen him bring food to his mouth once) to the prefect next to him. She attempted and failed to hide her surprise at the mask, but Destler appeared to look over that.

"I agree. There is a piano in the band room, but again, the acoustics are miserable!" She frowned slightly. "Maybe if they could move it to the stage..."

"The sound in there is wonderful..." They both trailed off, having found something in common to think about. "I take it you play?"

Did she play! It was well known that the girl, Margo, was one of the best pianists at Arxs, partially due to the fact that she had nearly perfect pitch, much like her brother, and partially due to the fact that she refused to play anything incorrectly the night of a performance. She would know the piece inside and out, and if she made a mistake during practice, she would keep playing until she got it right. The only thing that was preventing her from being the best pianist at the school was her lack of emotion while she played. Although it might be hard to tell emotions on an instrument, it was even harder to cast them into the piece. She had been working on that since her third form year. It was entirely possible that she would be able to inject the emotions this year. Doc G couldn't wait to hear her then.

"I do. I'm still learning, but..." She trailed off again, clearly thinking of how she was going to add emotions into her music.

"She plays wonderfully!" The other senior at the table interjected. "She's got to be the best pianist here! No one can teach her more than what she already knows." Erik turned his gaze to the person with interest, and then switched it back to Margo.

"Is that so? I would like to hear you play sometime then. If you do not mind, that is."

"I'm far from perfect. You see, I have trouble giving the music emotion." She uttered this last bit as though it was a mortal sin, and hesitated before continuing. "For that piece that you played, how did you give it that feeling? How often did you have to practice it to get it to sound that haunted and insecure?"

That piece that he had played... she must be referring back to the one she had heard him play. Well, obviously she had heard him play it. More specifically, that one where he was playing on an out of tune piano. That would have been in the CFTA then...

"I had not practiced it, and the feeling simply seemed right, as though it belonged there naturally." The masked man shrugged while saying this, like it was the simplest thing in the world to him. For all Doc G knew, it might well be to him.

Margo stuttered over that for a few moments. He would have laughed at her expression and usually impeccable words, but she was right there, and he had a feeling that no one else would have joined in. Better to keep humor to yourself.

"Bu-b-but! How could you not have practiced that! You must be a composer then as well..?" She sighed in defeat. "The emotion in that was incredible. Surely you must have played that at least once before then?" Erik merely looked at her. "No. I suppose you hadn't." She started absent mindedly playing with her fork, swirling it around on her plate. "I wish that I knew how to do that. Then my own playing would be near perfect. Much like yours." Her eyes twisted up to meet Destlers, and once more, Doc G nearly laughed, but this time at her antics. She was going to try and convince him to teach her!

If the Italian/HAM teacher picked up on this, he chose to ignore it, making her goal all the more difficult. Undeterred yet, she carried on. "I've been needing to teach myself to add emotion. Really, that has worked for everything else, but this... Perhaps if I knew how you played your music, I might learn some?" Still, no response from him, and still, she persisted. "Watching a master play would certainly help. Not only with my sound, but with my technique too. Even better than simply watching, would be having a master teach me. Coach me. That would be an honor I would gladly accept." He didn't move a muscle. "There must be someone here able to do that. A master of emotion, feeling... music." She gave a sly grin towards Erik. "Maybe if a mast-"

"Are you ever going to get around to saying what you want?" Ahh! At last a reaction from the man who was becoming a masked statue! About time, too. Margo was getting even funnier, and it was becoming difficult for him to hide his amusement at her rather pathetic attempts to hint to him. She stuttered some more. No one ever interrupted Margo Whitney. Ever. "Really girl, if you want me to instruct you, then simply come out and say it. I do not appreciate thinly veiled hints and flattery- they will get you no where with me." She stopped her stuttering and sat up straight, clearly irked and intrigued that he would be so blunt to her.

"Fair enough. Thank you for telling me." She rolled her eyes, but whether it was directed at herself or at Destler, Garrison couldn't tell. Either way, she continued. "Would you be so kind as to even consid-"

"Just say it already." Second interruption within minutes. Not bad.

She rolled her eyes some more, and sat up even straighter in her hard, wooden chair. "Please teach me how to add emotion?" It was not quite begging, too formal to be close to begging, but she had finally gotten around to asking him. Now her question simply rested on his answer. It was likely that she would be able to figure out what she needed to know by herself, but having someone tutor her would indeed speed up the learning time, and even possibly improve the rest of her playing as well. Indeed, Margo Whitney playing beyond perfectly would be a sound for sore ears.

Erik seemed to mull over what she had at last asked of him. Garrison found his lack of ability to read his face get increasingly more frustrating.

"I do not think I have ever taught anyone before..." The man was speaking quietly, probably to himself. "But it could be interesting..." Margo hung on the words she could hear. "We would need a good piano... But..." He trailed off, clearly debating with himself whether or not to take her on. She was looking rather desperate. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Neither of them moved.

"I suppose that it would not hurt to take someone on." He spoke louder, if unintentionally, but Whitney jumped up out of her seat all the same and, of all things, hugged him. Not that she didn't hug people, but for her to hug a man that she barely knew just because he was considering giving her lessons on an instrument she had nearly mastered? This guy must be good. Really good.

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I can't wait for the first one! When will they start? Where will we meet?"

Destler pried her arms from around his neck and twisted to face her. "I will email you on those details. For now, get to class." His words made sense. They had ended up talking through the usual cushion of time between lunch and the next period without any of them noticing. Seemingly reluctantly, Margo left the table. It was clear though that her thoughts would not be on her classes, but of her impending lesson with Destler.


	34. Chapter 34

I admit that this chapter doesn't advance the plot very much, okay, who m I kidding, at all, but Erik' Guest was right- it did give me an idea of where to go next. Thanks. Anywho, Happy New Year!

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"Sorry Destler. Can't change what whoever seats us says. You're at table four. This tables gonna be full in a minute or two anyway, once they all figure it out. Little third formers." Lakesburg, the table head, paused for a moment, taking in all the bustle, before remembering what he was doing. "Righto. Table four... that's up by table one, in the alcovey area. You know, by the podium? It's the one on the far right. Doc G's the table head there. You might like him. Philosophy teacher. Best one in the school. There's only three, but, still. Students love him. Has a certain way of teaching. The Plato method? Mighta been the Aristotle method. I dunno. One of those Greeks." He paused for another moment. "Whatever. Table four's up there. See you tomorrow." The man pointed a lazy finger up towards the alcove. Very few students were seated there as of yet, most still on the main level trying to figure out where in the world they were supposed to be. No one exactly had a map of the dining hall in their head, not even the older teachers, as Erik found out. The dining staff apparently would change the table numbers around as a joke every so often. Normally, as he had heard it, they would change them at the end of half of a trimester, a list, as they called it here, for maximum confusion. That way, the pair of maps they had posted at the entrances would not match up with the numbers on the table. All in all, a very simple, very confusing, and very annoying prank.

Erik made his way over to where he knew table four to be. It would have been easier, had the students parted like the Red Sea for him. Unfortunately, he was not that lucky. Every students seemed to be to preoccupied on finding their own tables to notice that they were bouncing into people left and right. He was elbowed more than once on his trip up to 'Doc G's' table. Doc G. That name was semi familiar to him. He had heard it echoing around the halls at one point; the students had been complaining of a certain essay prompt they had to respond to which went along the lines of 'What is truth?' He had no face to put to the name though. Well, at least, he did not until he got there.

They had already met, at least once before, maybe even twice. The one time he was certain of was when Maria introduced them. He had been called Garrison then, not Doc G. They had no time for pleasantries once Erik sat down before the bell rang. The dining hall became nearly silent in a matter of seconds, save for the screeching of a select number of chairs of the stone floor. Father Houghthon stood from table one to make a customary prayer. Todays was in some odd language, which he said to be Gothic after the 'amen'. A small girl, directly after the amen, jumped up out of her seat and began walking with purpose towards the kitchen. Rightly, Destler assumed that she had the misfortune of being appointed the waiter. It was a misfortune, if he remembered the conversation with someone correctly, because lines for food, especially at lunch, were actually mobs in the kitchen. No one stuck with the 'line' they started with. Often, the person at the back would find themselves at the front, and the person at the front would end up on the other side of the room in the other line.

Another young student stood up and stepped around the tables, heading for the kitchen. He was moving with much less purpose than the girl, as though he knew something that most didn't. Indeed, as Erik's eyes followed the boy, he entered the kitchen through a separate door, and nearly came out just as fast with a singular, large, plate of food. He was back before the waiter. The boy seemed to have an allergy to something, or he could not have gluten. Very rarely did the kitchen staff need to prepare a separate plate for a student. In the back of his head, he wondered if this boy had anything to do with that medical rush the other day. And as one of his side thought tangents was aware, a young man seemed to be ranting to Garrison about something.

Not that the conversation they were having mattered to him. The ranting boy could have been anyone, though he did happen to know the name of this particular teenager- he was in one of his Italian classes. The waiter arrived back at their table carrying a tray of food.

"What is it today, Ee?" Ee? What an interesting name to possess! Perhaps it was her first initial? Whatever it was, it suited her fine. Taking a look at such a small girl, there really seemed to be no other name so perfect for her. Another conversation started up around him but quickly died out. He picked at his meal in relative silence. He did sneak a few glances around him, but only to see who else was at that end of the table. Garrison was at the head, there was a young man, the one that had been ranting, on his right, and Ee next to that person. The boy with a food allergy was next to Ee. The the left of Garrison was himself. Further to the left was an older girl, and even further down the table was another young man. In total, this group had six member, including Garrison, but not himself. It was reasonably small, compared to many other groups.

"-u're the new Italian/HAM teacher, right?" The young woman to his left was speaking to him. He had not caught what she said. Something about his courses..? Nodding seemed to be the best option for him; he did so. She seemed satisfied, but intent on making conversation with him. "Cool. You play beautifully- I was in the art room when you started. It seemed that the piano needed to be tuned slightly though, I heard at least one key that was out of whack." She had heard him the other day? On that old thing? That was rather insulting! He mumbled something about the keys being out of tune. In fact, now that he thought about it...

"The entire room did not have great acoustics, even for an instrument of that size." Indeed, the sound had echoed off of the walls, causing it to get muddled. Aiding with that were the desks, chairs, and students themselves. That room was not made for any instrument. "It would have sounded much nicer in the auditorium." His eyes left the plate to take another look at the girl.

She looked sassy. In fact, she radiated it. Really, to him, there was no other way to describe her. The girl mentioned moving a piano to the stage. The auditorium, by another name.  
"The sound in there is wonderful... I take it you play?" It made sense that she would play; the senior (or so he assumed) seemed to know some about the instrument. The sound, really, but she had been able to identify an off note or two.

"I do. I'm still learning, but..." But what? She played. She was still learning. Fine.

"She plays wonderfully!" It was the boy who was ranting earlier that was speaking. "She's probably the best pianist here! No one can teach her more than what she knows." Really? Was she that hard to teach, or was the sassy teenager, as the boy put it, the best pianist here?

"Is that so? I would like to hear you play sometime." As an afterthought, he threw in the 'if you do not mind, that is.' A very late afterthought.

"I'm far from perfect." So the girl was unteachable. "You see, I have trouble adding emotion." Indeed, unteachable. She continued to ask him some questions about how he played, which he found rather amusing. It seemed she thought she could figure out how he played just by asking him! The 'best pianist here' could not add emotion. She really ought to figure that out, otherwise, any career would not go very far. Music without emotion is flat and boring. Take singing, for example. If a person was to sing a song to someone in a language they could not understand, and the person sang it without emotion, the listener would likely ignore it and leave. But should the singer add sadness, joy, fear, anger, any emotion, the listener would listen- the singer is telling a story with feeling and song. It is much the same for any other instrument, just using only the notes, tempos, rests, and loudness. The girl moved closer to him.

The girl moved closer to him. Her chair stayed put. Had there been a tilting of the ground? Why would she want to move closer to him? Maybe her chair slid. That made sense, although he had not heard a sound. It was probably a good time to start listening then.

"Much like yours." She scooted even closer. They were practically brushing shoulders. One thing was for sure though, her moving was purposeful. She was trying to do something. "Perhaps if I knew how you played your music, I might learn some." She was trying to get him to teach her. She wanted him to teach her. "Watching a master..." She was trying to cozy up to him with flattery! How desperate was this child? Clearly, very. Sassy. The girl definitely had the gall to do this. Actually, it was rather impressive. As far as he knew, he was considered to be one of the most imposing looking teachers in the school. Everyone he had met so far, students and staff alike, treated him with respect. It probably had something to due with his mask and that kid on the first day. What was his name? Michael? No, that was not right. Crayon? Kyle? He could not remember for the life of him. "Master of emotion, feeling, music." She was still going on? Impressive. She really was desperate, and this had gone on long enough. "Maybe if a mast-"

"Are you ever going to get around to saying what you want?" Really, there was no need to elaborate on such... pleasantries. Flattery would not get the girl anywhere with him. He refocused his eyes on her and raised an eyebrow. The girl was clearly not used to getting interrupted. He gave her a hint and mentioned the bit about flattery failing. She restarted her attempts. They failed once more, and once more, he stopped her from continuing.

"Just say it already."

Did she just roll her eyes at him? "Please teach me how to add emotion?" There. That did not seem too hard. Mind you, he was no judge of people, but for such a seemingly smart girl, she must have known that all of the flattery was going nowhere. Really, what did he know about people? Not enough, clearly.

He saved that stray thought for later, needing to think of the present. The girl had asked him to teach her to add emotion, not an easy feat in the slightest. Emotion simply cannot be taught. Besides, he had never taught anyone before, had he? Erik felt like he would simply get annoyed with her and send her off on her way during the first lesson. But it would be interesting, and a new experience, and had not Maria been picking on the fact that he had nothing to do after classes? But, again, they would need to find a good piano. She had mentioned one that could be dragged down to the auditorium though. Or, at least, he thought she had. He had not been paying much attention during that. Still, teaching someone at music. That would be... interesting.

"I suppose It would not hurt to take someone on." Had he just said that aloud? Well, it looked like the decision was decided for him then. Not that he like having decisions made for him. In fact, he utterly detested not being able to decide for himself. It was probably just general stubbornness, but... was she hugging him? She was hugging him? She had put her arms around him. That was a hug. He could not think of the last time he had been hugged. It felt weird.

The girl was speaking again. Were those thanks? For agreeing to instruct her? That was new. Erik turned in his seat and forced his arms to break the stranglehold she had around his neck. She practically shouted something about when they were to meet.

"I will email you those details. For now, go to class." He had to go to class too, but not before she left. He did not want to insult his newest charge with such a mundane question that had been on his mind.

"Garrison?" The table head turned his head towards him.

"Yes, Destler?"

"Who was that?"


	35. Chapter 35

Apologies for the pathetically late update! This chapter is slightly short, and really is just a bridge chapter, but I'll have a longer chapter tomorrow. And yes, it will be tomorrow.

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"Hello Maria!" was the first thing she heard once she got back from practice and entered her home. It was rather startling, to be greeted for once when she came back. Her old housemate had never done such a thing, and Erik hadn't for the past week either. What caused the sudden change?

"Hello, Erik." He looked rather like an eager puppy dog. A really tall, eager, masked puppy. All in all, it was rather endearing to see her housemate excited about something for once. It seemed that he was never excited about anything. Nervous and interested, yes, but genuinely excited? Well, at least he looked excited about something. She couldn't be sure. "Why so... cheerful?"  
"Should I not be cheerful about something?" His small frown was evident in that voice of his. The jumpy puppy instantly became a moping puppy. Her chuckles were barely restrained.

"No, no, just tell me why you are so excited. I've never seen you this happy before."

"You have only known me for a week." He had a point. Only a week. Wow. It certainly seemed like much longer! Only a week!

"Remember how you have been telling me that I need to find something to do after the school day ends?" Yes, quite well. She had been pestering him non stop for a few days. Before he went to bed, during study hall, when they met each other in the halls, really any waking moment that they were together, she at least mentioned it. Had her efforts at last payed off? "I have found something to do!" Suspicions confirmed. The man was gonna do something. Incredible.

"What?"

"There was this girl I met at lunch, a student who plays piano. She requested lessons." He was going to give private lessons? That was something, but not quite what she meant. Isse had been thinking more along the lines of a physical activity. Maybe someone could teach him football. That would've been a sight to see.

"What is her name?" It was an absent question, one that didn't require much thought, given how logical it was for her to ask it.

"Margo Weg- no, Whitney. Margo Whitney." Her eyes widened.

"Margo Whitney! She's like, the best pianist on campus, maybe in the entire town! And she asked you for lessons!?" MARGO WHITNEY! The girl was practically a celebrity in the community! Partially due to her appearance, for no one could deny that she is a very pretty young woman, but mainly because of her talents. Supreme pianist, excellent singer, all around nice person, and a 4.0 GPA. You couldn't get much better than that! And she came to her housemate for lessons!

"I take it you know her?"

"She's... well, she's Margo! Everybody knows her unless they've been living under a rock on campus. She's the model student. Vice-president of the student government, community service leader... the girl is perfect!"

"Not according to her."

Maria groaned and rolled her eyes. "Is the girl now modest, too? She's never been modest before. Modesty really would make her perfect." It depended on who was asking about perfection in a student really, but a good dose of said modesty would not hurt her. She always gave the truth, even if that meant taking all the credit for something that she did. That also meant that she recognized when other people earned the praise. She gave it to them freely. But modesty was not her strong suit. It never had been, and it probably never would be.

"I do not think she was being modest. Telling the truth, yes. I will not know for certain until I hear her play." He paused a moment before continuing, as though what he was about to say was a mortal sin. "She said that she could not add emotion into her music. In the musicians world, that is a sin and a crime."

"And you are the king of emotion." It wasn't a question, she had heard him play, and she had felt how his music was swimming in the emotion. It was strong enough for him to drag his listeners spirits along with it, and that was saying something. Although Maria, if she was being honest with herself, was a rather emotional person to begin with.

"If that is what you would like to call me, fine. Our first lesson will be next Wednesday, at the same time you will be having your soccer practice. I hope that I will be able to help her, should she require it." There was not a hint of modesty in his voice. He and Margo should work well together, though it would be something else if they were to start to argue about something. Both of them seemed rather proud and stubborn. Reasonably so, at least.

"Anything else exciting happen today?" He shook his head. "Okay then. I'm going to dinner at six. You can come if you want." She ducked down the stairs, leaving Destler to sit on the coach and do who-knows what. Probably, he was going to plan the lesson with Margo, and he could be hours at that. He did seem to a bit of the perfectionist type. Whatever he was going to do, it really was none of her business. She had her own things to attend to. More specifically, she had an ipad that was still hooked up to a recording camera. That wasn't considered spying, right?


	36. Chapter 36

And, a day later, here it is. I have to admit, I really should have been doing homework, not typing...  
Erik's Guest- I thought it would be nice to mix it up a bit :)

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"Play something for me. Anything will do, just play." The young woman hesitated and looked up at her tutor.

"Isn't there something you would like to hear? Maybe Bach, or Beethoven or-"

"Just play." She sighed. The masked teacher always seemed to interrupt her before she could finish a sentence. He probably knew what she was going to say, but still... Whatever. She had asked for this. Although it would be nice if she could at least get a more than one sentence off before he spoke. Margo sighed again and stared at the keyboard for a second, deciding what to do. She heard his foot tapping impatiently, and took that as her cue to begin the piece.

She was used to having someone stare at her while she played; she had played in concerts, after all, but his gaze she could physically feel. Like she was wearing a winter coat. A heavy, winter coat. It was boring into her back and fingers, which were somewhere in the middle of the prelude to the piece. There were few things in life that Whitney had found creepy or disturbing before. When she was seven, spiders and their kind scared her. Twelve, the dark. But those were simple, childhood fears. They were not exactly disturbing. But that gaze of his. That dark yet pale, steady gaze. That was something unusual. Creepy, too, and disturbing. Distracting. Very, very distracting. Was he doing that on purpose? Probably so.

"Okay, stop. I have heard what I needed to hear." Her playing ceased immediately, the sound resounding off of the walls of the small room momentarily. She turned to face him. "You were right. There was little to no feeling in that whatsoever. You were highly distracted, seemed rather disoriented, and overall, that was a disaster."

A disaster! Margo sputtered a bit.

"But I hit all of the right notes, at all of the right times, and yes, I was distracted, thank you very much!" No one had insulted her playing since her fear of the dark! The nerve!

"You hit all of the right notes, indeed. Simply, you did not know how to play them. I will not say that my way is best, but it actually works. Your way does not."

"My 'way', as you put it, works just fine! I do everything perfectly!" Except for the emotion bit.

"You are unable to feel the music. If you cannot feel it, then you cannot play it."

"I felt the music! I was playing it! Of course I felt it! It was under my hands! My fingers were making the sound!" If Margo was to be honest with herself, he was right. But that meant admitting her mistake. "How would you feel the music! Were you the one playing it? No! You weren't! I was!"

"Margo. Shouting at me will not solve the problem. I should know because I have been playing far longer than you."

"Really!" She did believe that... but that still didn't mean that she should hurt her pride, just because he knows better than her. Only friends were allowed to hurt her pride and bruise her ego. Not half stranger new teachers that wear masks on half of their face!

"Yes really!" The student jumped slightly off of the piano bench. He had raised his voice! Slightly, but he'd done it! "Of course really!" Maybe it was just in exasperation. "Would I be standing here taking your rantings if what I was trying to tell you would not help you!" Her teacher began pacing around the small space. He could barely walk two paces before needing to turn around again.

He just kept pacing. And pacing, and pacing some more. Margo just sat at the bench, looking stubbornly at the keys. It could be possible that he was right. Well, he was right. But that meant that she was wrong. She hated being wrong! Whitney looked up to where she knew he would be. He was still pacing, though she couldn't hear his footsteps. His head was bowed slightly, and one of his hands was grasping the other behind his back. Perhaps she would need to admit that she was wrong. Just once.

"If I say that I was wrong, and you were right, just this once, woul-" His head shot up, and once more, she was in his gaze. Her next words died in her throat, and she gulped slightly. She shouldn't have shouted towards this person. That was not smart. Definitely not smart. So not worth the glare. So not. So not. The tall, dark figure was slowly walking back towards the piano. In that moment, for the first time since in three years, the girl was scared. Petrified. Stuck to her seat. Her hands were curled up into fists, and briefly she wondered if she was having a nightmare. Maybe she had fallen asleep during a class? Yeah. Sure. But no. This was too real. And too scary. And unnerving. It was no nightmare. The masked figure rested his hands on the piano and opened his mouth. She clutched her eyes tight, praying that nothing would happen. She was wrong.

Was he... laughing? Wait, what? Wasn't the man supposed to be, like, killing her right now or something? Or maybe telling her threats? Not laughing! It wasn't even a dark laugh! She risked opening her eyes. There, backlit by a lamp and the overhead light, was her teacher, smirking slightly and laughing at... her. He was laughing at her! But..! Her shoulders slumped and her face must have been priceless- he chuckled a bit more.

"You should have seen your face!" It was her face! "I do not normally go around scaring people, but that was worth it, if only to get your attention!" He chuckled a bit more, humor easy to see in the colorless... no, yellow..? eyes. It was nearly contagious. Nearly, but not quite. "For your sake though, I hope I do not need to do that in the future." He stood up straight, but spoke once more before going to the side of his stunned student. "Really, was I that terrifying? Even you, the great Margo Whitney, are at a loss for words!"

Margo sputtered again. This man had just scared her witless and he was laughing at her! She couldn't even move! That was what he called humorous? How messed up was he?!

"Your face says it all once more." She could hear the smile in his voice. "How about, for your sake, you listen to me in the future." And how about she die! But... it was probably for the best that she agree. On one condition, that is.

"Only if you promise not to do that again! Ever!" Her rage was in check. Barely.

"Fine." That was easy enough. Too easy, in fact. "I will not scare you like that again, so long as you choose to listen to me in the future without loosing your voice in the process. Really girl, it is not good for you to shout like that! At the end of this, I expect you to get yourself a cup of tea, herbal tea." Fair enough.

"Deal. Now, may we resume the lesson?" She gestured towards the keyboard not in use.

"I suppose so." He paused a moment in his speech, and the next time he said something, she could hear the smirk in that voice of his. "Now then, let me show you how to do it my way."


End file.
